clone characters when they have to answer their commlink in the middle of sex (my headcanons)
a/n: duty calls…
fem reader
warnings: sexual content
hunter can’t switch off his bedroom voice in time for responding to his comms. his voice is thick and dripping with sex even with just a hoarse “yeah?” that he answers under his breath, his eyes flicking down at you as he slows his thrusts but doesn’t fully stop. he inhales roughly and rubs your swollen clit, barely listening to whoever is on the other side of this conversation. you squirm and whimper from the stimulation, feeling his pulsing cock move in and out of you with a teasing, dragging motion where you can feel every last vein and inch.
tech sighs exasperatedly and reaches for his commlink, only stopped when you say, “you’re seriously going to answer that?” he looks down at you like you just asked an obvious question and holds the flashing device in front of your face. “perhaps you would prefer taking this, then?” he says as he rolls his hips forward, smugly watching your mouth drop open in a breathy moan. his lips are slightly curved when he leans down and kisses your jawline, whispering, “i’ll only be a moment” before answering with a colder, sharper tone. “yes?”
wrecker grunts at the sound of his commlink beeping and draws away one of his hands from your hip. he still holds you firmly with his free hand, bouncing you on his thick, heavy cock as it wedges itself deep against your guts, hitting you in all the right places. “sorry, baby, have to take this,” he mumbles before answering with a growl in his tone when he barks out, “what do you want?” you grab his shoulders and try to slow yourself, but he just starts thrusting his hips upward, and you drop your face into the crook of his neck with a gasp.
crosshair presses a long finger against your lips and narrows his eyes at you, silently shushing you. “i don’t have all day,” he hisses in a low and raspy tone. he feels you trying to roll your hips against him, greedily seeking more friction from this disruption. he slowly smirks at the opportunity to tease you, like it’s that easy. if he’s gonna be interrupted, he might as well make the most out of it. and he does, intentionally dragging the conversation on as your muffled pants get heavier and more pathetic against his touch, staring down at you smugly.
echo gasps and sinks into you abruptly, startled by the sound of his comms going off. you moan from the sharp pressure of his cock bottoming out inside of you, not giving you any time to adjust. “fuck, i’m sorry,” he murmurs, kissing you softly. he reaches over your head to grab his commlink. you watch his face contort into a deep scowl when he answers, “this better be important,” visibly irritated with whoever had to interrupt you two. but his expression softens as you cup the side of his face, and he turns his head to steal a quick kiss to your palm.
wolffe is quick to grab your hips and turn your body over. he pushes your face into the pillow to muffle your breathy moan as he reenters you with a slow and deep thrust, his voice even deeper when he answers his beeping commlink. “make it quick,” he orders, somehow still able to keep his voice level and demanding, like he’s not currently fisting your hair to control the slick, heavy movement of your bodies. his fingers squeeze in warning at the intensifying sound of your soft cries, but you feel him fuck into you harder, like he’s testing how good and quiet you can be for him. you don’t even know when he finishes his conversation until he turns you back over and kisses you, murmuring, “good fucking girl…” against your lips.
fox lets out a frustrated groan of irritation and clamps a firm hand down on your mouth. “i’m busy,” he snaps into his commlink, his eyes piercing into yours as you stare up at him, your eyebrows scrunched in a desperate pout, just barely able to silence your noises. his hips snap against yours at a hungrier pace at the helpless look you give him, and he doesn’t break his gaze away from you even while saying, “i’ll be there in a fuckin’ minute.” then the line goes silent, and he slides his hand down to grip your jaw, mildly impressed. “hm, not bad…”
cody fucks you a little slower, just enough to catch his breath. “grab that for me baby, will you?” he groans, his big, beefy biceps braced around your head. you whimper as you reach around for his commlink and hold it to his face. he exhales his next order with a slight grunt, spreading your legs out wider. “need you to be quiet,” he murmurs, “can you do that for me?” you stare up at him and nod. he nods back slowly. “answer it for me—i’ll do the talkin’, just press it…” he commands gently before hardening his whole demeanor in the blink of an eye.
mayday flips your bodies so that you’re on top of him. the change in position makes you gasp, and he pushes up into you with a soft but stern look in his eyes. “keep ridin’ me baby, don’t stop,” he says to you quietly, leaning back to let you use him as he answers his comms, muttering, “i have a feeling you’re about to waste my time.” he keeps his eyes on you, watching how your tits bounce and your back arches while you roll your clit into the head of his cock, grinding down on him in a way that feels so good to you, ‘cause he always puts you first.
rex has been sick and tired of his brothers cockblocking him for laughs, and now someone is interrupting his much needed alone time with you. he doesn’t need to say much to express his despair as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, groaning loudly. “fuck, i should take that,” he mumbles. “mm, then take it,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist, which makes him dig his cock into you deeper. “uh-huh, nice try,” he whispers in your ear, turning your bodies over so he can keep fucking you on your side and he can grab his commlink.
fives groans and drops his head to your chest mid-thrust. “tell ‘em i’m not here,” he mutters. you giggle softly. “you want me to answer it?” you reply. he glances up at you and pushes himself into you further, holding your flushed, heavy-lidded stare. your nails dig into his back at his movements. “you think you’re up for it?” he teases in a low voice, slowly resuming the hungry rhythm of his hips. you throw your head back and gasp, “oh, you’re such a—” and he chuckles deeply. “yeah, tell me in a second,” he says right before pressing to answer his comms.
kix is always on-call, it’s like you can never get a moment with him alone in peace. you’re honestly used to it at this point, but he feels bad every time it happens. he pauses inside of you with a heavy exhale and whispers, “sorry, baby, one second…fuck, you look so pretty just like that…” he can’t take his eyes away from you as you lay under his body, your body warm and naked, squirming when he brushes his fingers over your nipples. you arch your back as he plays with them while he answers his comms in a concerned tone. “is everything okay?”
jesse grunts in annoyance and mutters, “great fuckin’ timing” in your ear. he reaches to answer his commlink, slowing down his hips against yours, but he quickly clamps a hand over your waist to stop you from rolling your hips, knowing you’re trying to tease him in this compromising moment. he squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back, his throat tightening from the way he swallows hard, his tone strained. “no, i’m listening,” he says into his commlink, looking down at you with a look in his eyes that tells you to expect payback—that’s a promise.
hardcase is so unserious sometimes. he’s breathing hard as he answers his comms, startling you when he turns the device over to you, pointing it right under your lips. “it’s for you,” he teases. your eyes widen at him, and you pinch his bicep hard, mouthing, “not funny!” but he thinks it is, chuckling under his breath before he takes control over the conversation again. you glare at him, only bringing out a wider, goofier grin from him as he continues to move his hips against yours, this time more lazily and slow. “uhh, yeah, i’m kinda busy right now…” he says.
gregor sighs against your lips, drawing your bottom lip out with a playful tug before he pulls away to answer his commlink. your legs are spread out wide, taking every inch of him, but your bodies seem to be frozen in time while he stares at you, furrowing his eyebrows a bit. you nearly die watching him fumble for a response. “no—i’m not alone—” he sees you shaking your head furiously so he says, “i mean, yeah, i am…” and he grabs your face with his free hand, holding you still to stop you from distracting him, both of you trying not to laugh.
howzer presses his nose against the side of your face, inhaling deep and slow before he grabs his commlink roughly, like he’s pissed but doesn’t want to show it. he stares at you, his gaze serious. “not a sound, alright?” he tells you as he strokes your cheek, waiting for you to nod before he answers it. he pauses a bit, seeing if you’ll keep your word, and then he starts thrusting into you again, lifting your leg over his shoulder to hit you deeper. you press your hand over your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut, proving to him that he doesn’t have to stop.
emerie kisses the inside of your thigh as she’s going down on you, murmuring, “is that mine? or yours?” you dig your fingers into her hair and moan, “oh, who caresss, fuck ‘em.” she sighs quietly and shakes her head, looking up to see that it’s her commlink. you whine in protest when she answers it, “emerie speaking,” but you fall silent when her dark gaze flicks toward you sternly, reminding you that she can take charge when she wants to. she slips her soft fingers inside of your pussy and gently strokes the inside of your walls, watching you fall apart.
I just had this idea. I like the hc that for the clones, if their commanding officer calls them by their number = your mom calling you by your full name.
Could you do one when their SO calls them by their number, and they just know they are in trouble 😭🙏
Clones x gn reader: you calling them by their number
warnings: none
A/N: ahhh that's such a fun idea!! i hc that some of them have a really complicated relationship with their numbers so you might be on thin ice with that one xD
comments and reblogs are very appreaciated!! :D
The Bad Batch
Hunter
"CT-9901"
"What?!" Hunter's voice is biting. He hates whenever his number is used. It reminds him that he's supposed to be defective, even if he doesn't feel like it. It has been used against his squad way too many times. But then he notices little signs of your body, how tense you are, your heartbeat that is way too fast, your breathing…
Hunter takes a breath, running a hand through his hair and putting the knife he'd been sharpening down. "Don't," he mutters, more to himself as a warning. He knows he's about to say something stupid, he already did by the looks of it. He doesn't need to make it worse.
Tech
"CT-9902"
"That would be my designation. Is there a reason you are using it instead of my name?" Tech readjusts his googles for the tenth time in the last few minutes. The two of you had engaged in a heated argument about certain comments he was making that he did not see a problem with and he refusea to listen to another perspective.
You think maybe using the number would make him at least pause, let you get a word in, and seemingly it does.
Tech knows something was wrong when you used his number because it sounds so similar to the regs and Kaminoans using it whenever he annoyed them but you are different. You know that and you have never used it this way before so that could only mean one thing; you were pissed. Royally.
Tech put his datapad down, turning his full attention towards you. He cannot undo the words he's said but he can at least listen from now. "Explain my error. I will listen now."
Wrecker
"CT-9903"
Wrecker stops. He hadn't heard his number in a long time. With the batch having numbers this similar, they are rarely used and his name is just something that fit him quite well so for you to use it…
"Oh… I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?" His voice turns quieter, softer. He drops the crate he is holding. It was fine, nothing fragile anyway. You are more important. Wrecker tries to wrack his brain about what he did wrong. "I'm sorry. I… really am. Uhm, I don't know what I did wrong but— I'm sorry."
Crosshair
"CT-9904"
He snaps to attention immediately, his mouth audibly clicking shut. He hasn't heard his number ever since he defected from the Empire and you know it was something he avoided thinking about as much as possible.
So for you to use it against him, he knows he fucked up but he doesn't know how to react. On one hand, he wants to apologise and make it right but on the other hand, that number triggered him in a way that leaves him unbalanced.
"That's low," Crosshair's voice is razor-thin but there's no anger in his eyes, just something raw and wounded. "If you want me to listen, fine. But don't use their language against me."
Echo
"CT-1409"
Once those numbers left your mouth, Echo froze. The only time it is ever used these days is in medical settings and those always left him hollow afterwards. He stares at the floor for a few seconds, processing.
When he looks up, his expression is tired. Not angry. Just… exhausted.
“Wow,” he says softly. “Okay. I deserved that.” He runs a hand over his head. “I’ll fix it. Whatever it was. Just… please don’t do that again. I hear those numbers in my nightmares enough as it is.”
Commanders
Wolffe
"CC-3636"
Wolffe goes rigid. He's used to being called "Commander" or "Sir" by his men. But for you he has always been just "Wolffe". He scans your expression with narrowed eyes.
"Want to run that by me again?" he growls, but there's flicker of unease beneath the gruff exterior. He crosses his arms, a defensive posture. He knows he’s been difficult lately. He just didn’t think you’d notice — or care — enough to pull this card.
Fox
"CC-1010"
Fox flinches. Actually flinches.
His number was a curse. It’s the number on the report every time a Corrie Guard falls. It’s the number Palpatine’s office used to summon him at 3 AM. Hearing it from your lips feels like a betrayal.
He doesn’t get angry. He just looks… defeated. He pulls his helmet back on, the visor hiding his eyes. “Message received,” he says, his voice flat and filtered through the comms. “Loud and clear.”
Cody
"CC-2224"
Cody stops writing his report. He sets the stylus down with a deliberate click. He turns in his chair, looking at you with that calm, measured gaze that all great commanders seem to have. He’s not scared. You two have had fights and arguments before and have resolved them all just fine.
That you used his number was new, and it made him pause but also want to listen to you more.
"Alright. That serious, is it?" He asks quietly. He doesn't apologize yet, he doesn't know what for yet, but he's giving you his full undivided attention. "Well, talk to me, dear. I'm listening."
501st
Rex
"CT-7567"
Rex blinks once. Twice. He carefully sets his helmet on the table a gesture of surrender. He knows that if you’re bringing out the number, this isn’t a battle he’s going to win with authority.
“Alright, mesh’la,” he says, holding up his hands. “You got me. What’d I do?” He’s trying to keep his tone light, but his ears are slightly red. He hates being reminded that he’s a number to the GAR. To you, he wants to be just Rex.
Fives
"CT-5555"
"Yes, that's my full name, you know you can just say Fives to save time," Fives replies, ever the cocky one. But you don't laugh, don't even smile like usually. You just glare.
His smile falters. Then it dies completely. He pushes off the wall, suddenly serious. “Oh.” He swallows hard. “It’s like that, is it?” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking very young. “I’ll, uh… I’ll just go wait in the barracks until you’re ready to talk. Or yell. Whichever you feel like.”
Jesse
"CT-5597"
Jesse freezes mid-laugh. He was just joking around with Kix, but the sound of his number, sharp and cold, cuts through the noise like a vibroblade.
He turns slowly, his shoulders tensing. "Is there a problem?" he asks, his voice slipping into a more neutral and respectful tone. He’s slipped into ‘soldier mode’ to protect himself from the emotional whiplash.
Kix
"CT-6116"
Kix sighs. A deep, world-weary sigh that only the medic of the 501st can truly master.
He sets down his medical kit and crosses over to you. He doesn’t look scared or angry, he's wrestled so many delirious soldiers that the difference between his name and number didn't mean much to him on days like these.
He gently takes your chin, tilting your head to check your pupils. “Your blood pressure is up. Talk to me.”
Hardcase
He doesn't get it at first when you say his number, turning towards you with a smile. "Yep, that's my number. Did you memorize it? That's so sweet!"
It takes him a full five seconds to see the look on your face. Then his energetic bouncing stops and his eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh no. I’m in trouble, aren’t I? Is it the explosives? I bet it was the explosive. I swear it wasn't my fault I can fix it tho—"
Dogma
"CT-6922"
Dogma stands up even straighter, which feels almost impossible since he always stands at attention. He responds to his number like a droid to a command. "Yes?"
But then he sees the fury in your eyes, the disappointment and his gaze falls to his boots, realising that it's you he disappointed and that's somehow worse than facing the disappointemnt of authority. "I see…" he says quietly. "What did I do wrong?"
Tup
"CT-5385"
Tup’s bottom lip trembles slightly. He’s so sensitive, so eager to please. Hearing his number from you feels like a physical blow. He sets down the little droid he was tinkering with and walks over to you, his brown eyes wide and glossy.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, not even knowing what for. “I don’t like that. It sounds wrong when you say it.” You already feel bad having ever used the number.
Misc.
Howzer
He pauses with his cup of caf halfway to his lips as you say his number. He doesn't get defensive or flinch. He just sets the cup down and looks at you with those steady, honest eyes. The scar on his cheek pulls slightly as he offers a small smile.
“That bad, huh?” He holds out his hand to you. “Come here. If you’re pulling out the designation, then I deserve whatever lecture is coming. But can we do it sitting down? I have a feeling it’s a long one.”
Hi! I was wondering if I could request head canons for the 501st and what would happen after a really bad argument with their s/o? Like their s/o is not talking to them and or not sleeping in the same bed as them, what would they do?
501st x gn reader: major argument/giving them the silent treatment headcanons
warnings: none
Rex:
Rex is stubborn during arguments, especially if he genuinely believes he's right. He won't raise his voice with you, but he can get frustratingly set in his position once he's dug his heels in. It might take him some time to cool off enough to see your side of things sometimes
If you won't talk to him afterwards, he tries his best to respect that. He'll tell himself that you're entitled to your space and that pushing isn't gonna help anything
Sleeping separately is what hits him pretty hard. The empty space beside him is just a constant reminder that things aren't okay between you and he ends up staring at the ceiling for most of the night, trying to keep himself from just getting up and going to you
Spends the entire night replaying the argument in his head. He's picking apart every sentence and trying to figure out where he could've handled it better. By morning he's often thought himself into a completely different perspective
The next morning, he's seeking you out immediately. He's done with the tension dragging on and even if he's still frustrated, he'll sit down with you and talk everything through until you've both said what needs to be said. Hugs you after and mumbles that he won't let arguments get that bad again
Fives:
Fives wants to solve the problem. Even once you're walking away from the argument, he's trying to continue the conversation. He's doesn't want to leave things unfinished and as far as he's concerned the argument isn't over until the two of you have actually talked it out
Tries everything. Will exhaust every option to try to get you to just talk to him. He's not trying to be overbearing or anything, he just hates having things hanging in the air between you and wants to get things resolved. Tries reasoning, pleading, humor, anything
Finally relents when you make it clear you're not budging. If he realizes you're digging your heels in and every attempt is just making things worse, he lets out a frustrated sigh and gives you space
Sleeping separately is where he's had enough. Having things be drawn out for a few hours is one thing, but all night? Possibly into the next day? Absolutely not. He lasts as long as he can before giving up and getting up with a huff
Goes to wherever you're getting ready to sleep and asks you to please just talk to him. He'd rather stay up until dawn working through the argument than spend the night wondering how broken things are between you
Kix:
Kix regrets the argument literally as it's happening, even if he still thinks he had a point. Once emotions cool down, he's already kinda wishing things had gone differently
He's a little hurt if you won't talk to him after, but he also gets it. He'll try checking in a few times, asking if you're ready to talk or if there's anything he can do. His voice gets softer with every attempt
If you keep shutting him down, he'll back off. He's pretty miserable, though. He understands that you want space, and so he's willing to give it to you, but he's also over the argument at this point and just wants to make things better
Once it's clear you're not coming to bed either, his brain is back in problem-solving mode. He's up for half the night staring at the wall while mentally planning apologies, conversations, and ways to make things right
The next morning, he's showing up prepared whether it's your favorite caf/tea, breakfast, or just a carefully thought-out apology. Gives you the opportunity to talk/air things out and is SO relieved when things finally get smoothed over
Jesse:
So stubborn when he's upset. If you're digging your heels in, he's digging his in harder. Not about to give you the satisfaction of seeing him cave first. Or at least that's what he tells himself
Acts like it doesn't bother him when you stop talking to him. Throws himself into whatever he's doing and makes a point of looking completely unbothered. But it's a performance and not a particularly convincing one lol
Secretly, he's absolutely miserable. Keeps looking up whenever you enter the room and then looks away when you catch him. Every hour that passes without hearing your voice makes him more irritated with the entire situation. He’s angry that you’re ignoring him but at the same time he’s yearning for you as if it’s been days instead of just like an hour or whatever
When you decide to sleep separately, his resolve starts cracking fast. Argues with you about it and then huffs like okay fine have it your way. Leaves for a bit. It doesn’t last
Eventually, he's just had enough. Crawls into bed beside you and grumbles like, "We're done arguing. Move over". Yeah the issue's not magically resolved and he's probably still a little pissed but he just misses you so muchhhh
Hardcase:
Incapable of letting an argument die gracefully. Every time it seems like the conversation is over, he suddenly remembers something else he wants to say. The argument gains three extra rounds because he keeps coming back
When you stop talking to him, he's frustrated. The silence drives him absolutely insane. Keeps trying to get your attention and the more he fails the more restless he gets
He tries distracting himself, but nothing sticks. Paces around and occupies himself with literally whatever he can find to do, but still ends up thinking about you the entire time anyway
Once he realizes you're sleeping separately, the frustration starts giving way to hurt. Suddenly it's not just an argument anymore, you're actively avoiding him and don't wanna be around him, and he can't stand that feeling
Shows up at some point in the night looking exhausted and annoyed. Just stands there in the doorway for a minute before being like "….I can't sleep :(" might accidently restart the argument for five minutes but somehow it always ends with the two of you curled up together anyway
Tup:
Really stubborn during arguments, once he's upset about something he clings to it for a pretty long time and needs time to process before he's ready to bend
If you start giving him the silent treatment, he’s a little hurt but honestly he kinda needs the time too. Still catches himself wondering every five minutes if you're still angry with him
As the hours pass, he cools down and starts getting restless. He's fidgeting and checking the time way more often than necessary, his thoughts circling back to you no matter what he tries to focus on
When you don't come to bed, his heart sinks. He doesn't come looking for you because he wants to respect what you want, but he spends the whole night feeling awful
By the next morning, he's ready to fold immediately. The second you seem even remotely willing to talk, he's apologizing and pleading with you to let him make things better and admitting how much he hated being at odds with you. More than anything he just wants reassurance that the two of you are okay
Dogma:
AWFUL during arguments. The second he feels criticized he's getting defensive and digging trenches. He always has another counterargument ready and absolutely HAS to have the last word
If you stop talking to him, fine. He won't talk either. He spends hours convincing himself he's perfectly fine with this arrangement and that actually it was his idea in the first place and he doesn't miss you oh no not at all
The longer the silence lasts, though, the harder it becomes to maintain his pride. Starts to become a little uncertain, replaying the argument in his head and questioning things he was so staunch about earlier, regretting things he said
By the time the night comes around and you're refusing to sleep beside him, he's miserable, exhausted, and increasingly aware that "winning" the argument (even if he didn't win he’s telling himself he did…) hasn't actually made him feel any better. In fact, he feels much worse. Huh.
His stubbornness is mostly gone the next day. He shows up looking tired and guilty, awkwardly asking if you two can talk. And once you've made up he is ATTACHED to you. He's making up for missing that night with you with enough cuddling to last a week
synopsis: based on the following prompt – “i trust you, do you trust me?”
featured clones: wrecker, hunter, echo, tech, crosshair, rex, fives, wolffe, cody, fox
warnings: mild cursing. nightmares. crime. kidnapping. injury. life-and-death situations. highly uneven word counts because some required more buildup than others. also i don’t think you can repair the hyperdrive from inside a flying ship but uhhh it’s for the plot guys!! not proofread.
wc (total): 6.0k
.✦ ݁˖ wrecker (482 words)
it was a well-known fact that wrecker hated heights. but somehow, he always landed in situations where he would be practically tightrope walking from 300 metres off the ground.
although he tried not to look down, his eyes would subconsciously glance downwards every few seconds, rebelling against his brain which was repeating don’t look down like a mantra.
as you made your way across the narrow cliff’s edge, right in front of him, you also felt fear creep into your mind. you couldn’t afford it, but at that height, anyone would be scared.
just when you started getting used to it, a bomb dropped a few hundred feet in front of the both of you, causing you to momentarily lose your balance.
“if they just bombed us, that means they’re sending droids next. we’ll be trapped,” you tell wrecker. underneath your observation there was an unspoken question: what are we going to do?
as much as he hated the idea, wrecker could only think of one way out. “uhh i have an idea… but you’re not gonna like it.” this did nothing to help your growing sense of fear, considering that most of wrecker’s ideas were unlikeable anyways. “what is it?” you ask, preparing yourself for the worst. for all you know, he’s going to ask you to jump off the cliff.
“you’re just gonna have to trust me.” the look he gives you makes your stomach somersault, and not in the way it usually does when you see him. when you don’t say anything, he follows up. “i trust you, do you trust me?”
as impossible as this situation looked, the truth was that you did trust him. so no matter how terrible his idea was, you trusted that he would never intentionally hurt you. “yes,” you nod.
you yelp as he suddenly picks you up and then jumps. straight off the edge of the cliff. you had never regretted being right about something so much.
wrecker’s screaming so loud that for a split second you accept that this is the end. if he’s screaming so loud when this was his idea, then either something has gone terribly wrong or he didn’t think this through. and both of those things were highly probable.
but your worries are quelled (mildly) when you hear the whoosh of a grappling hook being fired and your bodies jerk as you come to a quick stop.
“whew, that was scary,” he says, voice slightly hoarse from all the screaming. “so is your miraculous plan just to… dangle off the cliff?” you ask, looking down and realizing that the two of you are definitely not close enough to the ground to jump the rest of the way. “no silly, you’re supposed to comm tech to come get us.” after a moment he adds, “and can you ask him to hurry? i don’t wanna be here any more.”
.✦ ݁˖ hunter (394 words)
the two of you had been at this for hours. and still, you felt like you hadn’t improved in the slightest.
hunter was teaching you how to fight with a knife. you were great with a blaster, but blasters weren’t always available. plus, you had kind of wanted to learn a new skill.
honestly, you were being a little harsh with yourself, at least in hunter’s eyes. not only had you just started learning, but you had mastered a lot of the moves he had taught you already. but he could see in your expression that you were frustrated with yourself.
“maybe it’s time for a break,” hunter says, taking the knife from you. hunter’s brow furrows as you nod, not saying a word. he takes your hand and drags you onto the steps of the ship, making you sit down beside him.
“you’re doing great, you know,” he says softly. you’re silent for a moment before shaking your head. “i just feel like it’s not good enough. it’s not like we have a lot of time to be training. i need to get good at this, and fast,” you say, looking away from him to try and hide the tears threatening to fall.
he gently takes ahold of your chin and turns your head to face him. “you’re too hard on yourself,” he says, kissing your nose. “i trust that you’ll get this. can you trust me?” he asks. when you nod, he drops his hand from your chin and says “let’s try once more. this time it’ll be you vs. me.” you groan, already knowing how it’s going to end.
but you surprise yourself with how well you fight. maybe you did need that break, even if you would never admit that to hunter. after a few minutes of intense sparring, you (somehow) manage to pin hunter to the ground, winning.
“see? not half as bad as you thought,” hunter laughs as he pushes himself off the ground. you laugh with him as you help him up. “come on, let’s get dessert. you earned it,” he says, grabbing your hand. you are 100% sure that he let you win, because there was no way you had actually beaten an experienced soldier on your first day of training. but hunter looks proud, and you’re getting ice cream, so who are you to complain?
.✦ ݁˖ echo (406 words)
both you and echo had gotten hurt on the last mission, bad. your skin was littered with bruises, and you had a few minor burns from the explosion that wrecker had accidentally triggered too early. echo looked no better, his prosthetics in bad shape and a serious sprain in his wrist from trying to catch himself as he fell, when he was attempting to take cover from said explosion.
the two of you are in the back of the marauder, alone, on the flight back to kamino after the mission. although he was clearly in a lot of pain from the condition of his prosthetics, he had insisted that he patch you up first.
picking up a bacta pad, he asks, “do you trust me?”, looking at you with wide eyes. “of course,” you respond breathlessly. echo always asked for permission, before doing anything. you admired that about him, especially knowing that it must be important to him. he probably knows better than most what it’s like to have your autonomy stripped from you, and thus refuses to do anything to anyone without their explicit permission.
you hiss as he lowers the pad onto your calf, right under the spot where your pants had been hastily rolled up. “just breathe…” he says, securing the pad around your leg with tape. the two of you sit in comfortable silence as he continues gently cleaning up all your other small burns with the same gentleness. it was admirable how well he was able to work with just one hand.
“all done,” echo declares, sitting back. you smile at him, thanking him silently and he gives you a nod. for a moment, he doesn’t move, looking conflicted. you don’t press, waiting for him to speak when he feels comfortable.
after a few moments, he hands you a small bag of materials, quietly asking you to help him with his injuries. your breath hitches as you take the bag, realizing how vulnerable this must be for him. as your sort through the supplies, you wonder if you’ll really be able to help him, since you would hate to mess things up and put him in even more pain by accident.
as you shift closer and pull his scomp towards you, it seems he can sense your fears when he whispers, “i trust you.” “thank you,” you respond, letting him guide you through repairing his prosthetics and patching up his sprain.
.✦ ݁˖ tech (647 words)
you lot were all in a lot of trouble. the planetary exit, meant to be inconspicuous, had been the opposite of stealthy. now there was an entire separatist fleet chasing after you, and the hyperdrive wasn’t coming online.
“did they sabotage it?” echo calls from the back. he was trying his best to get the hyperdrive online, wrecker was at the back manning the ship’s rear blasters, and tech was piloting. hunter and crosshair were controlling the ship’s cannons. meanwhile you were in the cockpit hanging on for dear life as tech flew the ship like a maniac, attempting to read the ship’s manual to see if it had anything useful to offer. he was simultaneously avoiding blaster fire and trying to shake off the ships by going as fast as possible, but it was only a matter of time before they closed in.
you squinted your eyes to try to focus on the words amidst the jostling of the ship. “deflectors have been compromised!” hunter calls. “i can’t get the hyperdrive online. i don’t know what’s wrong with it,” echo panics.
“i can’t find anything useful in this manual.” you say, panicked. “don’t you have the entire manual memorized?” you ask tech. “i do. but i am currently occupied with trying to keep us all alive.” his usual calm tone is tinged with concern. even crosshair was silent. if he had no aggravating comment regarding the situation, then it was truly dire.
you flip to the next page, reading faster, although your hope was dwindling. just as you were about to throw the manual aside, you come across a passage that might just save all of you. “wait! i found something,” you exclaim. you read out the passage to echo and tech. tech blinks and then says, “i am surprised i did not think about that before. but that is a two-person job, and only echo and i have the ability to repair that part of the hyperdrive. you will have to fly the ship.”
“i can barely fly a ship! especially not during a life-or-death space chase!” you yell. if he really expected you to fly the ship, then you were all as good as dead.
“do not underestimate your abilities, my dear. i trust you with the ship. do you trust me?” he asks, glancing at you for a brief second.
you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the task. “i do,” you say, approaching his seat. you two quickly switch spots and he and echo get straight to work on fixing the hyperdrive.
miraculously, your flying wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. you were managing to avoid the blaster fire, which was no small feat considering there were about five different ships trying to shoot down your ship. but just as you started feeling confident, a shot hits one of the wings.
“the left wing’s been hit!” you call to the rest of them. right as you started losing control of the ship, you hear the hyperdrive come online. were you even supposed to go into hyperspace with a compromised wing? probably not, but you didn’t have a choice. you quickly flip the switch and successfully enter hyperspace.
you slump back into the seat, exhaling shakily. you close your eyes as the adrenaline starts to wear off and you feel the effects of being so anxious for so long start to creep in. sitting there for a few moments, you thank the stars for your sudden high-class piloting abilities and that you hadn’t killed the whole batch.
your eyes open as you hear someone come up behind you. a moment later you feel a hand land on your shoulder and give it a squeeze. “you did wonderfully. i am impressed,” tech praises. you flash him a smile, grateful that you had trusted each other. he returns it, thinking the same thing.
.✦ ݁˖ crosshair (501 words)
the batch needed to infiltrate a heavily fortified separatist base, and you had the great pleasure of joining them.
they had been on many missions such as this one and always came out on top. it was hardly a challenge for them anymore, and they had no problem pretentiously whining about it all the time.
you, however, were not as easy-going about this mission as they were. crosshair noticed your anxiety no matter how good you were at hiding it. he noticed how your posture was a little too stiff and the slight furrow in your brow.
but he’s not very good at comfort, and the only way he knows how to address serious topics is using sarcasm. on the ship, during the debrief before the mission, he takes his toothpick out of his mouth and points it at you. “you look confident,” he mocks. which was not helpful, and only put you more on edge.
he backs off slightly after that, paying attention to you throughout the mission. he shifts closer to you whenever your breath comes faster. stands in front of you when he sees your hand flexing, making sure that you’re covered from both the front and the back. practically manhandles you when he hears droids coming closer, making sure you’re behind something that can provide cover. helps shoot some of the targets in your way when your blaster trembles slightly in your hands. by no means were you an incompetent fighter, but anxiety catches up with everyone at times. although crosshair hated to admit it, he would never let harm come to you, and the last thing he wanted to do was invalidate how you feel.
despite your anxiety, the mission turned out to be a success, for the most part. you had recovered what you needed and had managed to make it thus far without anyone getting harmed. but just as the six of you are about to make your great escape, crosshair notices a battle droid in the distance, coming up behind you. he points his rifle straight at your face, and you freeze, eyes wide.
“do you trust me?” he asks. it’s hard to say yes with the gun pointed at your face, but you give him a small nod. as he moves his finger to pull the trigger, he says “i trust you. don’t move.” you close your eyes as you hear the blaster fire, but it never hits you. you open your eyes as you hear the sound of a large droid clattering to the ground. had he fired even a centimeter lower, it would’ve killed you. but if he hadn’t taken the shot like that, he wouldn’t have been able to take the droid out in one go. but he wouldn’t tell you that.
as the two of you run towards the marauder together, you huff, “couldn’t you have taken the droid out from any other angle” without missing a beat, he answers, “i could’ve. but there’s no fun in that.”
.✦ ݁˖ rex (535 words)
the war was tough on your relationship. on one hand, you were very understanding that rex had no control over his schedule. it was extremely admirable that he put his life on the line every day, and helped fight for the republic’s freedom, for your freedom. but the weeks, sometimes months, of loneliness were catching up to you. it was hard, especially since it wasn’t like rex could talk everyday. your communications were few and far between, as he had responsibilities and so did you. and as the war dragged on, his presence only became more scarce, until you felt like he was your partner in name only.
and boy, did rex try to make time for you. the guilt of leaving you alone ate at him constantly, to the point where he sometimes wondered if he should break up with you so you could move on and be with someone who was able to give you all the time you deserved. but selfishly, he wanted to hold onto you. and he also knew that a breakup would only hurt you more than it would help.
which is why he’s over the moon when he finally gets a day off, and runs straight to your place when he gets the chance. and when you open the door, you are the same as always; eternally grateful to see him, and you spend the rest of the day giddy, drunk on his presence. but rex could tell that you had been struggling. your apartment wasn’t as clean as it usually was. your laundry basket was overflowing, the dishes in the sink hadn’t been done in ages, and your plants had all died.
so when the two of you finally make it into bed, he pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “hey… are you okay?” he asks gently. “yeah, i’m really happy you’re here,” you answer, giving him a small kiss. he takes a small breath and tries again. “no, i mean, have you been okay?” when you don’t answer, he waits patiently, not wanting to push you. you stay silent for a few minutes, and rex closes his eyes, thinking that you’re just not going to answer. but they open again when you say, “i’ve been really lonely.”
before you can launch into a long explanation to defend yourself, rex presses a kiss to your forehead. “i know it’s been hard. i need to try harder to make time. you’re my priority, and i haven’t treated you like it. i’m sorry for letting you feel lonely. i’m going to make sure to be in touch from now,” he apologizes, slowly stroking your hair. “i’d like that,” you whisper, scared that if you say more, you’ll start crying.
he kisses you slowly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other still wrapped tightly around you. “we need to trust each other to make this work. i trust you, do you trust me?” he asks, looking at you softly. for a moment he’s scared that you’ll say no, that you’ve had enough. but when you whisper “i trust you,” he kisses you again, eternally grateful that he got blessed with someone like you.
.✦ ݁˖ fives (911 words)
being with fives was exasperating sometimes. and this was definitely one of those times.
“are you being serious right now? i am not going through all this effort for some cookies,” you hiss at him in the alleyway, trying not to let anyone hear the two of you. when he had sent you an ominous message to meet him in this shady spot, you had run out of your house, assuming he was in danger. thankfully, that was not the case. unthankfully, he was being ridiculous again.
“these aren’t just any cookies! they look delicious. they smell delicious. and i bet they taste delicious too,” he whispers dreamily. you shake your head, mildly irritated that you were currently standing in a dark alley during the dead of night all because your partner wanted to steal some cookies. “if they’re that important to you, why don’t you just buy them? it doesn’t exactly look good for a soldier of the republic to be stealing,” you attempt to reason.
“they’re so expensive! 25 credits for two cookies isn’t exactly affordable. plus, it’s not like the republic is paying me for my service.” well, he’s got a point there. probably a human rights violation, but that’s an issue for a later day.
you concede with a sigh. “all right. walk me through the plan.” because although fives was the biggest idiot in the galaxy, he was your idiot, and you secretly wanted a cookie too.
his grand plan was as follows: once the owner is finished with closing, they will walk out the door and lock it behind them. while fives distracts them, you are to swipe the key off them. after waiting for about ten minutes, to make sure that the owner was long gone, the two of you would use the key to sneak into the store and try the leftovers. fives had even brought a little box with him to carry more cookies. but the leftover cookies were going to be thrown out tomorrow morning anyways, so really, the two of you were just preventing food waste.
“i trust you to help me pull this off,” he says, taking your hands in his. “do you trust me? we won’t get in trouble, i promise.” you squeeze his hands, saying “i trust you. what i don’t trust is this plan.” his face falls for a moment, but his frown turns upside down when you add, “but let’s do it.”
about fifteen minutes later, fives and you watch from behind a pillar as the owner closes and locks the door behind them. the two of you watch him slip the key into a pocket in his pants. fives takes this as his queue, and as the owner starts walking away, he runs after them, yelling “hey! can i talk to you for a sec?”
you turn around and facepalm from the sheer embarrassment. real subtle. but you still had a mission to complete, so pulling the hood of your cloak up, you start walking towards them. as you approach, you can hear fives’ pitiful attempt at starting conversation and have to suppress a laugh. “your bakery always smells so good, like cookies,” he states, the smile on his face way too wide to be considered natural. “ah, yes, that would be because i sell cookies…” the owner replies skeptically.
but the owner is caught off guard when you slam into them a moment later. but it was a little harder than you had anticipated, and the two of you land hard on the ground. great, this plan’s already failed. but fives is always willing to create opportunity even when there isn’t one, and he reaches for the owner to help them up. while you apologize profusely, fives subtly reaches into the pocket and snags the key, the owner being too busy trying to reorient themselves to notice the slight loss of pressure in their pocket.
“watch it!” they snap at you. you apologize one more time, and the owner storms off. fives gives you a look, and before he can say anything, you roll your eyes. “don’t start.” he raises his hands in surrender and says, “i’m just sayin’, getting the key was supposed to be your job.”
once the two of you had waited for a few minutes, and the coast was clear, you tiptoe to the door and put the key into the lock. fives holds his breath as you slowly pull the handle, trying not to create too much noise. but the door opens without hassle.
the moment fives enters the shop, he dashes towards the display with the same speed he must use on the battlefield. “look! they have a special chocolate chip cookie dough flavour!” he exclaims, gesturing you to come closer. you can’t help but feel just as excited as he is, looking at all the different flavours and at how excited he is.
about ten minutes and fifteen cookie selections later, the two of you exit the shop and leave the key underneath the doormat, with a note taped to the door explaining the situation. after all, you don’t want to stress the poor owner out too much. you’d already most likely broken their hipbone.
later, when the two of you are watching a movie and stuffing yourselves full of cookies, he turns to you and wiggles his eyebrows. “bet you’re glad you trusted my plan.” “shut up,” you laugh, shoving another cookie in his mouth.
.✦ ݁˖ wolffe (353 words)
wolffe is a man of few words. more of an i’ll show you rather than an i’ll tell you kind of guy. so when you get woken up in the dead of night by the sound of his voice, your heart leaps out of your chest.
normally, you’d love to listen to him talk. but as your eyes adjust to the dark, you realize that his eyes are still closed. he’s sleeping, and from the looks of it, he’s not having the best night of his life. his body trembles as he repeats the same word over and over again. “no, no, no, no, no…”
you had never seen him this distraught. “wolffe, wake up,” you say, trying to gently shake him awake, but he doesn’t budge. you try again, and still no dice. right when you think you’ll need to get a frying pan, he jerks awake. he sits up, entire body tense. but when he feels your hand trail down his arm, squeezing lightly, some of the tension leaves his muscles.
“were you having a nightmare?” you ask him softly. he’s still panting a little when he answers “just a dream.” “come on,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him down. you lay with him, running your hands along his body to calm him down. his breathing slowly but surely starts to slow down, and the tension starts to leave his body completely.
once his breathing returns to normal, he snakes his arms around you too, so you’re both hugging each other. “do you trust me?” he mumbles, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. “yes, wolffe, i do,” you reply without missing a beat. he kisses you, and where his kisses are usually possessive, this one is soft. after pulling away, he whispers against your lips. “i trust you. don’t leave me.” “wouldn’t dream of it,” you reassure him, kissing him again.
the two of you quickly fall back asleep, comfortable and safe in each other’s arms. but if you ever bring this up at a future date, wolffe would swear it never happened.
.✦ ݁˖ cody (659 words)
it was very rare that cody got a day off from duty. he got a few hours from time to time, but a full day was hard to come by. which is exactly what made today so special.
you groan at the insistent knocking at your door. at first you had just brushed it off, since you weren’t expecting anybody, and figured it must be someone lost, or a thief. but after about thirty seconds, the knocking had only increased in both pace and volume.
having had enough, you turn the burner off and storm towards the door. whoever had decided to ruin your peaceful day of cooking was about to hear it from you. you slam the door open, ready to hurl all sorts of insults at whichever idiot was behind the door.
but all those thoughts are erased from your mind the moment your brain registers who’s there. “cody!” you exclaim, jumping into his arms. he giggles into your hair. “hey, love. miss me?” he teases, planting a kiss on your head.
after a long minute of just holding each other, you reluctantly let go. a few hours later, the two of you are cozied up on the sofa together, bellies filled with delicious food (that you thankfully got to finish making) and hearts filled with happiness.
“you know,” cody starts, hand running through your hair, “i think i need a hair cut.” you look at him, confused. “but i like your hair,” you counter. he stares at you with a mischievous look in his eyes, which only confuses you further. “i think we both need the change,” he says, standing up. what the hell does that even mean?
“cody, what are you doing?” you ask as he heads towards the kitchen. he doesn’t answer you, too preoccupied with opening and closing drawers. “what are you looking for?” he still doesn’t answer, and you’re about to stand when you hear an ah-ha!. he comes towards you, holding the pair of scissors like a trophy, and declares “we should cut each other’s hair.”
the idea is so sudden that you’re stunned into silence. “you want to cut each other’s hair… with kitchen scissors,” you confirm, and he nods, still looking a little too proud at his little idea. “isn’t there some GAR standard for hair?” you push, trying to knock some sense into him. but he only waves his hand dismissively. “there are plenty of clones with crazy hair,” he states (full shade to boost, wtf is that haircut brother). “i don’t believe that rex is a natural blonde. and if he can bleach his hair, then i can afford to cut a few locks.”
when cody wants something, he knows how to get it. which is exactly how you find yourself standing in front of the bathroom sink a few minutes later, freshly-cleaned kitchen scissors in hand. you breathe deeply as you lightly wet his hair with a spray bottle. “hey, darling. don’t be nervous. i trust you,” he comforts you, rubbing your arm lightly.
the process takes way longer than it should. but 45 minutes later, you stand in front of a very happy cody as he admires his new haircut in the mirror. even you must admit; you did a pretty good job. “you should do this full time, love,” he says gratefully, “it’s exactly what i wanted.”
“i’m glad,” you smile at him.
but just as you’re about to leave the bathroom, he grabs your arm and drags you back. he tsks and says, “nuh-uh, now it’s my turn.” uh oh. as he reaches for the spray bottle to repeat the process on you, he laughs as he says, “i trusted you, but the real question is, do you trust me?”
you trusted him in every context except this one. you flash him a nervous smile and nod, resigning yourself to the fact that you’ll probably be wearing hats for the next little while.
.✦ ݁˖ fox (1.1 k words - oops)
fox had never meant for you to get caught up in all this. but no matter what he wanted to happen, the truth was that you were in danger, and he blamed himself.
someone had hired a bounty hunter to eliminate a highly valued prisoner. the coruscant guard had just barely managed to stop the hunter, but hadn’t been able to figure out who they were before they escaped. but the guard hadn’t concerned themselves with the bounty hunter as much as who had hired them. this turned out to be a big mistake, because the bounty hunter had decided that the best way to get to the prisoner was by holding people the coruscant guard loved hostage and threaten them. if he could get the commander to fold, then he had won.
which was how you had ended up in this predicament. one moment you had been getting ready for bed and the next you heard glass shatter as someone entered your apartment via the window. you had tried to fight off the intruder, and almost succeeded, but they managed to stun you and then the fight was over.
you slowly blink as you wake up, a dull ache in your head from being stunned. but all the sleepiness wears off as soon as you register where you are. the concrete was cold beneath your feet, and your waist and wrists were in pain from the tight rope cutting into them. you look around, concluding that you must be in a storage facility of some sort. panic quickly settles in your chest as you realize that you’re alone, and it was unlikely that anybody would be coming to rescue you. fox was overprotective, and he had probably already gone insane since you hadn’t called him to say goodnight the way you usually did. you would be surprised if he hadn’t already stormed into your apartment.
but even if he had realized that you were gone, he would have no way of locating you. the kidnapper hadn’t exactly had the courtesy of leaving you with a way to call for help. trying to fight against the restraints was useless, and would only cause you to maim yourself. so you were stuck.
meanwhile, fox was having the worst day of his life. the bar was high, since he had seen some crazy shit during his years, but this took the cake. he was furious. why would anyone try to target you? you were just a civilian. and while your relationship with the commander wasn’t exactly a secret, it’s not like either of you were celebrities – strangers wouldn’t know about it, and even if they did, they wouldn’t have a reason to care.
he’s just about to leave your apartment when there’s an incoming transmission. he’s never answered faster, hoping that it’s you. that you just went on a stroll, although the broken window indicated otherwise. but that hope is quickly squandered when he hears the voice of the very bounty hunter that had gotten away just a few days ago.
“i have them. and if you’re smart, you’ll take the deal i’m about to give you,” the bounty hunter drawls. fox is so angry that he almost bursts a vein in his head. “if you don’t let them go right now, i will make the rest of your life so miserable you’d only wish you were dead,” he threatens. the hunter just laughs, which angers fox further. “if you give me the prisoner, you’ll get them back. and no ambushes, or else they die. you have until the morning.”
fox has no choice. at least for now, he has to take the deal – thinking of a plan can wait. before the bounty hunter can cut the call, he accepts “i’ll accept your deal on one condition. let me talk to her.” the hunter is silent for a moment before conceding. a few moments later, he hears your voice.
“fox, what’s going on?” you ask. the panic in your voice makes his heart squeeze. “i can’t explain everything right now. just promise me you’ll be okay.” his breath stutters when he doesn’t hear an answer. how could you promise that? you were already not okay. when he realizes how impossible his request is, he takes a deep breath. “i trust you,” he spits out. the vulnerability is so foreign to him that the confession sounds hateful. but the hate wasn’t directed at you, never at you. he hated himself for even letting this happen. “do you trust me?”
“i do,” you exhale. the bounty hunter cuts the call, saying “that’s enough.” as stalks out of the room, he looks behind his shoulder, calling “for your sake, you should pray that he brings that prisoner.” but the words hardly register, your mind preoccupied with replaying fox’s words in your head. i trust you, he had said. that meant so many things. i trust you to trust me. i trust you to do the right thing. i trust you to believe in me. i trust you to be strong.
those words are the only thing keeping you together as you wait for what feels like days, all alone in the dark room. your head has been between your knees for so long that your neck has started to hurt. but you perk up when you hear the distant sound of blaster fire.
a million thoughts flash through your mind at once. it must be fox, here to save you. but the bounty hunter had said that you would die if he ambushed. fox would never let that happen. but what if he got hurt? no, he’s strong enough. but what if the bounty hunter, who had already evaded him once, was too strong?
the sound of the doors sliding open cuts through your thoughts. at first, you only see a shadow, and for a split second you panic thinking that the bounty hunter had come here to finish the job. but as the shadow comes a little closer you realize it’s a man in clone trooper armour; and not just any armour, it was fox’s. he breaks into a run, pulling out a knife to cut through your restraints the moment he gets close enough.
you two reach for one another at the same time, and fox holds you so tight that it crushes you a little. “are you hurt?” he mumbles into your neck. “no, you saved me.” fox takes a shaky breath, thanking the stars that his ambush had actually worked and that you were still here, and unharmed at that. he wordlessly picks you up, carrying you out of the room.
“i can walk by myself, y’know,” you say, but the expression on your face indicated that you didn’t mind this situation at all. “not a chance. you’re staying with me tonight.” he says definitively. “aww, are you worried about me, commander?” you tease. he scowls. “stow it.”
a/n: it was so hard coming up with 10 different scenarios for this prompt rahhh
Summary: After being stung by a bug on a remote planet during a mission with Torrent Company, your life is suddenly in danger, and it's going to take something rather...unconventional to fix it. Little do you know your decision might mean more than you thought it would.
Pairing: Fives x reader
Word Count: 11,105 words (sorry)
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, sex pollen, slight dubcon because of sex pollen, feelings, idiots in love, medic!reader, some slight descriptions of injuries but nothing too graphic, slightly possessive Fives, good bro Kix, we love wingman Jesse, language
A/N: Did I need to write another sex pollen fic? No. Has this one been plaguing me for days? Yes. So I wrote it. Bit rusty with the 501st boys but here we are. Hope you enjoy!
MASTERLIST
“Why did you have to bring me along again?” You ask into your comm, firing a shot at a droid from the bushes where you’re hiding.
“We just like having you around.” Fives’ voice sounds from your vambrace. You can picture the cheeky smile on his face beneath his helmet.
“I feel like Kix would have been more than capable of handling you idiots.” You say, flattening yourself in the dirt as a stray blaster bolt flies over your head. You weren’t necessarily trained for front-line combat, usually stuck at the back of the column to look after injured soldiers left behind by forward progress like most civilian medics.
You were getting more than enough combat experience hanging around these boys, though. They were making sure of that.
You let out a slow breath, pushing yourself back up to your knees to peer through the bushes. Droids are falling left and right as blue and red blaster bolts fly through the air. It’s utter chaos.
Yet, you trust the boys to take care of things. They’re here for a reason. The best of the best the 501st has to offer.
You take aim through a gap in the bushes, firing on another droid getting too close.
“Nice shot, Doc.” Jesse’s voice comes through the comm.
“Thanks.” You murmur, watching the chaos for any possible injuries you’ll need to treat.
You watch the field, the small droid army that had been guarding the base getting smaller and smaller as the boys work their magic. You keep a close eye out for any potential injuries, not that you don’t trust Kix can’t handle it, but you’d prefer he keep his focus on the fight and not one of these idiots catching a stray bolt to the groin.
You’ve gotten up close and personal with some clones for that very injury.
Just another day in your life.
You’re pulled from your reverie as something sharp pricks your neck. You slap a hand against the spot, pulling away to find a squished bug. You pick at the skin, pulling the stinger free. “Kriff.” It’s a decent sized stinger.
“You good, Doc?” Kix’s voice comes through the comms.
“Yeah, some kriffing bug stung me.” You say, the spot starting to throb painfully.
“Ooh kiss your mother with that mouth?” Jesse asks.
“Please, like you haven’t said worse.” You roll your eyes.
“Kriffing son of a bitch.” Hardcase grunts.
Yeah, like that. “What happened?” You ask, snapping back into medic mode.
“Hardcase took a shot to the shoulder.” Kix says.
“Drag him over here.” You say, pulling your pack off your back. You risk leaving the cover of the bushes, squatting down just past the treeline as Kix and Fives drag Hardcase over to you.
He grunts as he’s dropped, going limp. You roll your eyes, pulling off his spaulder before looking at the hole in his blacks. The skin is blackened and raw, burned from the heat of the blaster bolt. You open your pack, pulling out your med kit. “This is going to sting,” you say, pouring disinfectant over the injury. Kix kneels down on his other side, prodding at the wound.
“What’s the prognosis?” Hardcase asks, his helmet shifting side to side as he looks between you.
“I don’t know, Hardcase.” Kix says as you pass him a bacta shot. “You might not make it.”
Hardcase sighs dramatically, gripping your hand. “Distribute my sabacc credits evenly among the men, and give condolences to that Twi’lek from 79s.”
You roll your eyes again, but squeeze his hand as Kix jabs the injector into the wound. “You’re lucky that shot wasn’t further to the right.” You say, grabbing the gauze from your bag. “I told you to get bigger spaulders.”
“I keep forgetting.” Hardcase says.
A bead of sweat trickles down your spine as you pack your med kit back into your bag. The air is hot and heavy on this planet, your blacks already damp from sweat under your armor. It’s not as heavy duty or weighty as theirs, but you can only imagine how soggy they are under those helmets.
“Let’s get this communication tower down.” Rex says, the fight against the droids over. You quickly realize they were waiting on you to finish. “Hardcase, stay out here with Doc, the rest of you on me.”
Hardcase salutes him from his place on the ground before flopping back dramatically. You sit down next to him, fanning yourself. Sweat has pooled in your crevices, the day only seeming to get hotter and muggier.
You dig your canteen out of your pack, taking a long drink of the cool water. It soothes some of the heat for a moment, and your dry mouth. Has your mouth been this dry the entire time?
You offer the canteen to Hardcase and he takes it, pushing himself up to sit. He favors his right arm as he takes a swig, likely still in pain as the bacta slowly works itself through his system.
The jungle seems so quiet now that the fire fight is over with. The air is still and heavy, settling like a dome over the Separatist hideout. You’re aware and alert, and so is Hardcase, in case any straggler droids show up as the boys work to take down the communications tower, cutting one part of the Separatist army off from the others.
You slip your canteen back into your pack, leaning back against a tree. It’s getting hotter, and you tug at the neck of your blacks, trying to get some air between your skin and the tight fabric.
“You alright?” Hardcase asks, turning his head to look at you.
You nod, fanning yourself with your hand. “It’s hot.”
He hums, turning to look back at the building. He doesn’t seem bothered by the heat at all, not even a sweat breaking out on his forehead as you sit under the hot sun. You’ve always wondered if the clones were engineered to handle more extreme temperatures. You hadn’t read anything about it in the file you stole during a short stay on Kamino. Curiosity had led you to snooping about the clones and their genetic engineering. You’d simply made the excuse that it was to better understand how to treat them. Resources would be limited at times and if you knew how much they really could handle, then you could better allocate those resources between them.
You’d never give them less than you would anyone else, but that had been the excuse you’d come up with in case you got caught. You hadn’t, but you never do anything without a good reason thought up. Impulsivity isn’t your nature.
Sweat has soaked through your blacks by the time the doors open again, your hand falling to your blaster before you recognize your boys coming back through.
“Charges are planted.” Rex says, Kix offering you a hand to help you up off the ground. “Let’s get out of here and blow this place.”
“Hell yeah.” Hardcase says, putting his helmet back on.
Your group steps through the bushes again, slipping back into the jungle.
You’re not quite sure how far you walk before you hear the bang, jumping just a bit as the explosion reaches your ears. You’ve stopped for just a moment, long enough for them to detonate the charges and destroy the Separatist communication station. You take a moment to grab your canteen again, taking another big drink. Your mouth feels eternally dry, no matter how much water you drink, it doesn’t do anything to ease the ache in your throat. The canteen is half empty now, and you only hope you’ll come across water at some point so you can refill it before it’s completely empty.
You ignore the way your hands shake as you tuck the canteen back into your pack, slinging it over your shoulder again as you trudge along through the jungle.
The heat continues to intensify, sweat dripping down your forehead as you slowly weave through the bushes and roots. The wound on your neck from the bug is throbbing and achy, a bump forming where the stinger broke your skin. There’s an itch starting to build beneath your skin. Must be from the friction of your blacks and the sweat. Just what you need. Heat rash.
You can’t wait to get off this planet. You can’t wait to get back to the boring med bay, the greys and whites of the Resolute. You’d take cataloging over this. But the boys wanted you to come along, and here you are dragging ass behind them.
You pick up the pace, shoving past the exhaustion, something you’re well accustomed to. It’s not the first time you’ve had to push past the extremes, often pushing yourself further than sanity to save the lives of as many troopers as you can. You don’t want them to die, even if they do it with honor.
Your legs are starting to shake, sweat dripping into your eyes. The itch under your skin is intensifying, your fingers digging into the gap between your vambrace and rerebrace. The armor is getting heavier and heavier, weighing you down as your exhaustion continues to build.
Your vision is starting to swim, the colors of the jungle intensifying, becoming sharper. Your hand shakes as you lift it to wipe your brow, sweat soaking through your glove. The sun isn’t helping the heat any, bearing down on you through the trees. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought it was seeking you out, following you and shining its rays directly onto your head.
After a few minutes you finally stumble, sitting down hard on a root. Your pack nearly pulls you backwards and you quickly unclip it, letting it fall before it takes you with it. You need to stop, you need a moment just to breathe. The jungle around you is kaleidoscoping, the vivid brightness hurting your eyes.
“Doc!” Fives calls out, rushing to your side. His hand cups your face as you sit back against the tree, blinking away the dizziness. “Kriff, you’re burning up.”
Kix kneels down on your other side, grabbing his scanner from his belt. He holds it up to your face, and you can imagine his brows furrowing in concentration under his helmet. “A fever.” He tilts your head side to side, the motion nearly making you puke down Fives’ front. His fingers tug at the neck of your blacks, pulling them down slightly.
“What?” You slur, lifting a hand to the sore spot on your neck. The bump has gotten bigger, and it throbs as you brush your fingers over it.
“We need to find somewhere to set up camp.” Kix says, turning to speak to Rex. “I need to treat her before this gets worse.”
“There’s a clearing not far ahead.” Rex says, turning his gaze to you. “Think you can make it that far?”
You nod, standing back to your feet with Kix and Fives’ help. “Yeah.” You don’t sound very convincing.
Kix slings your arm over his shoulders as Fives grabs your pack, his grip around you tight to keep you upright as you stumble onward after Rex. If you weren’t so out of it, you might have been embarrassed or even ashamed. You can’t care about much besides putting one foot in front of the other right now, though. You don’t have that much energy to expend.
Kix is almost carrying you by the time you reach the clearing, half of the company jumping into setting up the tents while the others do a sweep of the area, making sure there’s nothing hiding in the trees that might cause a problem. You lean against a tree, fingers fumbling with your pack to get your canteen.
A gloved hand moves yours to the side gently, reaching in to grab your canteen for you. You look up at the familiar face of Jesse as he screws the top off for you.
“Thank you,” You breathe, taking a big sip. It’s almost empty now.
“You sure you’re alright, Doc?” He asks, brows furrowed in concern.
You nod. “Probably just heatstroke.”
He doesn’t seem convinced of your diagnosis, but he nods even as his brows pinch further together. He pushes himself to stand, moving himself in front of the sun, protecting you from its rays. It’s starting to lower in the sky, its rays reaching through the gaps in the trees.
“Come on,” Kix says, approaching you again. “Let’s get you in a tent.”
With Jesse’s help they get you on your feet, your legs trembling under you. Your body feels heavy, limbs dragging like you’re trying to move through mud. Everything feels harder than it should, even your breathing has become labored.
Kix and Jesse get you into the tent, Kix lowering you down onto the mat on the ground. It’s hardly comfortable, but you couldn’t care less right now. Kix turns on a lamp, casting a sterile looking glow in the tent as he digs through his own pack. Yours has been placed on the floor at your feet, your fingers reaching for your canteen. Your mouth is dryer than Tatooine, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You take a long drink, drinking up every last drop of water.
“I need more.” You gasp, handing him your empty canteen.
“We’ll get you more soon.” Kix says, pulling out his med kit. He scans your forehead again, the scanner beeping ominously. “Your temperature is higher than it was.”
“That’s not good.” You say quietly, tugging at the pieces of your plastoid armor. You need it off, the weight of it pressing against your skin. That itch is still there, burning and scraping where you can’t reach it.
“Easy,” Kix says, grabbing your hands as you tear at the plastoid.
“I need it off.” You breathe, your chest tightening. It feels constricting, rubbing your blacks against your sensitive skin.
“Alright, let me help.” Kix says softly, easily peeling off a spaulder. He carefully removes your armor, setting the pieces next to your pack at your feet.
You can still feel the burn of fabric against your skin, though it has lessened a bit without the weight of your armor on your body. Kix tilts your head to the side, brushing back some of the hair that’s fallen out of your braid, the damp strands sticking to your skin.
“You said a bug stung you?” He asks, running his thumb over the bump on your neck.
You hiss as he presses against it, a sharp pain shooting through your body. “Yeah.”
He pulls his hand back, grabbing an injector. “When did these symptoms start? After you got stung?”
“I mean, I was hot before.” You say, wincing as he injects the bacta into your shoulder. “But everything else…” you let out a long breath. “Yeah.”
“It’s possible the bug released some kind of toxin into your bloodstream when it stung you.” Kix says.
What you wouldn’t give for a blood test right now. Maybe it could tell you what poison is coursing through your system right now.
Sweat continues to soak through your blacks, beading on your forehead and sliding down into your hair. Kix straps a monitor to your arm before rising, taking your canteen with him as he leaves the tent. You lay there, trying to take in deep breaths but your chest feels constricted. Your entire body feels constricted, like your very skin is starting to tighten and suffocate you.
“Easy,” Kix says, keeling back on the ground next to you, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Panicking isn’t going to help anything right now.”
“It’s...it’s too much.” You gasp, tugging at your blacks. They’re sticking to you like a second skin, the sensation enough to drive you insane. You feel like you are going insane, every nerve ending alight all at once, every sense on high alert. You’re pretty sure if you focused enough, you could feel your bones.
Kix’s touch is unbearable as he prods at your wound. “The bacta hasn’t helped any.” He says, worry evident in his voice. “Your heart rate is still high, and your blood pressure.”
That explains the painful pulsing behind your eyes.
There’s an ache starting to blossom deep in your pelvis, a deep cramping that’s building steadily. You press a hand to your abdomen, applying gentle pressure, as if that could get it to stop.
“How much longer until they arrive to get us?” You ask, tugging at your shirt.
“We’re not due to be picked up for another six hours.” He says. “Rex commed and they’re coming as fast as they can.”
“Kriff,” you breathe, rolling back onto your back. “I don’t think I’ll make it another six hours.”
Kix doesn’t say anything, but his silence is all you need to know.
The deep ache in your stomach intensifies, sharp shooting pain racing through your overstimulated nervous system. You grit your teeth, curling into a ball.
“What is it?” Kix asks, shifting to face you.
“Hurts.” You gasp, curling tighter into a ball.
“What hurts?” He asks, his hand on your shoulder.
His touch burns through your body, intensifying the ache in your stomach. You pinch your eyes closed, trying to breathe through the cramp. It’s worse than any cramp you’ve ever had. It nearly has you seeing double.
“Doc…” Kix says, his thumb stroking your arm. “Talk to me.”
“Can’t,” you gasp, the cramping starting to lower in your body. “Shit.” You force yourself to sit up, ripping your shirt over your head. “I can’t. I can’t take it anymore.”
Your skin nearly sighs in relief at the freedom from the tight material. You don’t care that Kix is seeing you in just your breastband. He’s a medic, he’s seen a lot of things. The last person who would judge you for having your tits half out is Kix.
You curl back up into a ball, the ache in your stomach starting to sink lower and lower until it’s pulsing between your legs. You squeeze your eyes closed, thighs pressing together. You try to breathe through your mouth, willing the ache to subside.
“Kix,” you breathe, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “What’s happening to me?”
“I…” he lets out a sigh. “I don’t know. I’m going to update the Captain, you try and rest.”
***
“How is she?” Rex asks, approaching Kix as he steps out of the tent.
“Not good.” Kix says honestly. He’s watched your decline over the last two hours. “Whatever that bug was...it injected some kind of toxin with its stinger.”
“Is there a cure for it?” Rex asks.
“I don’t know.” Kix shakes his head. “I couldn’t find anything in any databases.”
“Can you think of anything that might help?”
Kix shakes his head again. “I’m a combat medic, not a scientist. Bacta is useless, and a stim shot might make things worse. How far out is our extraction?”
“Four hours.” Rex says.
Four kriffing hours. How is he going to keep you alive that long?
He’s not sure you’re going to make it another hour, let alone four.
***
The pulsing between your thighs is intense, so intense it almost hurts. You grind against your palm pressed between your thighs, skin slick with sweat. It’s hot and you’re exhausted, yet the pulsing of your pussy refuses to let you sleep. You’ve given up on your pants, kicking them off into the growing pile at your feet, leaving you in just your breastband and underwear.
“What does it feel like?” Kix asks, dragging a hand across his shaved head. The two of you have been trying to brainstorm, with what little brainpower you have left.
“You want the truth?” You breathe, panting slightly from the exertion of simply existing.
“That would be helpful right now.” Kix says. You’d hit him if you could move your hands.
“It feels like I’m insanely horny.” You admit, trying not to get embarrassed. The last person that would make fun of you is Kix.
Kix hums, typing away at the datapad in his lap.
“I’m so horny it hurts.” You whine, grinding against your hand. “I feel like I might die if I don’t orgasm right now.”
“Feel free to…” he waves his hand. “If you need to.”
Normally you might feel ashamed for being so open with Kix, but neither of you seem to care right now.
You sink your hand into your underwear, fingers seeking out your pulsing clit. You’re soaked and it’s not just the sweat. You can feel the slickness of your folds as you start to circle your clit, sighing quietly from the sweet relief it’s finally getting. Kix doesn’t even glance your way, buried in his datapad as you masturbate next to him, seeking any kind of relief from the intense need burning through you.
“I think I found something.” Kix says, uncrossing his legs. “I think whatever toxin that bug injected into you was some kind of stimulant.”
“You don’t say.” You breathe, turning onto your back, still furiously rubbing your clit, seeking any kind of relief you can get, but the building pleasure only goes so far. It’s not quite enough, even your fingers dipping into your pussy isn’t enough.
“You’re only going to get worse if we don’t find some way to burn this toxin out of your system.” He says, still looking at his datapad. “There’s a little research on the holonet about toxins that can induce arousal, but…”
“But what?” You gasp out, pumping your fingers in and out of yourself.
“Prognosis isn’t good unless you can orgasm enough times to burn it out of your system.” He says with finality.
You let out a groan of despair, curling your fingers inside yourself. Your pussy is damn near tingling, light pleasure coursing through you but it’s not enough. It’s almost like your fingers aren’t enough, like you need something else, something more.
You let out a huff, withdrawing your hand. “It’s not working.”
“What’s not working?” He asks, finally glancing up at you.
“I can’t...I can’t get myself to…” You groan, flopping back dramatically against the mat. “I need help.” Your voice is soft, small, quiet, like you don’t want to admit it.
“Doc…” Kix says, setting the datapad aside. “I don’t know…”
“I need help.” You say again, scrubbing your hands over your face. “I’m going to die if I don’t orgasm and I can’t do it myself.”
Tears leak out of your eyes. It’s the truth. Your heart rate has only continued to climb, as has your fever. The bacta held it off briefly, but as the minutes pass, you can feel your blood pressure starting to rise again. The body can only take so much before it gives out. You don’t want to find out what your limits are.
Kix lets out a quiet breath, his hand falling to press against yours where it rests on the mat. “Let me go talk to the guys.”
You watch him go, laying there on the mat, the tears still streaming. You can just hear them outside, their bodies visible thanks to the glow of the small fire set up in the middle of the camp.
“She’s declining again. The toxin the bug injected was a stimulant. It’s sending her body into overdrive.”
“Is there anything you can do to fix it?”
“There is one thing...but you’re not going to like it.”
Their voices quiet down, and you can see them leaning in closer to each other.
“We have to what?”
“We can’t do that. She’s...not like that...we can’t.”
“We may not have any other choice.”
“She just needs to hang on for three more hours.”
“She’s not going to make it two if she doesn’t get help.”
It falls silent, only the sound of your labored breaths filling the air. You can almost picture the silent conversation, eyes glancing around, looking anywhere but at each other as they come to terms with what Kix is suggesting. Besides some harmless flirting from Fives, they’ve never pressed that boundary with you. There’s always been an unspoken rule with you. They don’t push past that boundary, and now they’re being asked to hurdle over it.
“At least...let her decide. Let her have the autonomy to choose.”
Footsteps approach the tent and Kix ducks back inside. He comes over to your side, kneeling down next to you. His hand brushes your head, brows pinched in a frown. “They’ll do it.” He says quietly, wiping the sweat from your brow. “But they want you to choose.”
You already know that, but you let him say it. It’s a finality, the gavel striking on this situation, making it real. You’re going to have to fuck one of your friends, one of the troopers you’d trust with your life. Who better, though? It could be some random trooper you’ve never met before who you’ll never see again…
Maybe that would be better than a trooper you’ll have to face regularly.
How are you going to face them after this?
Who do you choose? Rex? You trust the clone captain with your life, but you’d never be able to be in the same room with him again if you asked him to do this. You can’t ask Kix. You need someone aware in case this goes awry, someone who might at least be able to keep you alive. Jesse would make it too romantic, and you know he’d catch feelings. You couldn’t do that to him. Hardcase would wind up bragging about it accidentally and you’re not sure you could handle that eventual reality.
That leaves…
Fives.
The one least likely to care about this, the one to play it off as a one-time thing, like many of his other flings. You’d be just another notch on his belt, like all those other faceless bucket bunnies he winds up bedding during shore leave. He won’t care, and he’ll make sure he forgets after all of this is done. He’ll pretend like nothing happened, and everything will go back to normal.
“Fives.” You whisper, squeezing your thighs together.
Something passes across Kix’s face, but you’re too out of it to put a name to it. “You’re sure?”
You nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”
Kix is quiet for a moment before he nods. “I’ll...go tell him.”
Kix stands back up, leaving you alone as he ducks out of the tent again. You curl up in a ball, mind swimming with nothing but desire, nothing but an intense need to cum and fast.
The tent flap moves aside again, only it’s not Kix who enters.
It’s Fives.
He’s sans helmet, brows pinched as he approaches you slowly, like you’re a wild nexu about to pounce. He kneels down next to the mat, his gaze unreadable as he stares down at you.
“Hi, Doc.” He say softly, lifting a hand to brush some damp hair from your face.
“Fives…” you let out a soft gasp as a wave of pulsing pain throbs through your body. “Help me.”
You grab his hand, bringing it to your face. His glove is rough as it slides across your skin, your nerves alight and overstimulated from the simple touch.
“You really want me to do this?” He asks, his thumb brushing your cheek.
“Yes.” you gulp, squeezing his hand weakly. “I need it.”
He swallows thickly but nods, sitting back on his heels to pop off his utility belt and kama, laying them near your own pile. Your own hands tug your underwear off, the soaked fabric bunching as you kick it off onto the end of the mat. Fives pops his pauldron off adding it to the pile on the floor. He makes to take off his spaulders but you stop him, grabbing his hands.
“Don’t bother.” You say, laying back on the mat and pulling him with you. “The faster we can get this done, the better.”
“This isn’t going to be comfortable for you.” He warns, popping off his codpiece.
“You really think I care right now?” You ask, tilting your head back.
“Suppose not.” He murmurs, settling himself between your thighs. His hands trail up your legs, gloves gone at least.
This is so unsanitary, but you’ll worry about that later.
He stares down at you for a long moment, hands paused halfway down your thighs, just resting there. You try to part your legs for him but he keeps them closed, something passing over his face before he sits back on his heels. “Turn over.”
You do as he says, turning over onto your stomach. Whatever is going to get you fucked faster. He finally pushes your thighs apart, just enough for him to slot himself between them.
“Kriff…” he breathes, sliding a hand down the back of your thigh. His fingers glide through your folds before two slip into you, your body opening easy around him. He curses again, pumping his fingers into you. “So kriffing wet.”
“Hurry up.” You breathe, shifting your arm to wave back at him. “No time for that. I need you...like right now.”
You hear him shift, his blacks opening to free his cock. You lick your lips at the thought of what it looks like. Unfortunately you know from medical experience exactly what he looks like, just how hung they all are.
Your pussy clenches at the thought of his cock finally inside of you and the relief it’s going to bring. Finally you’ll be free from the intense overstimulation burning through you.
He leans between your thighs, kneeing them open further to make space for him and his armor. The plastoid digs into your skin but you don’t care, far too focused on the way your body stretches around the tip of his cock. He lets out a quiet groan, sliding into you easily.
“Kriffing hell, Doc,” He groans, settling his weight over you as he glides home in one stroke. His hands come to rest on either side of you, his hips pressed tight against your ass.
He starts to rock his hips, slow and steady as his cock presses into you over and over. Arousal seeps out of you with every press of his hips, soaking into his blacks. The itching is still creeping under your skin, the monitor on your arm beeping from your increased temperature and heart rate. Fives shifts, grabbing it and ripping it off, tossing it somewhere to the side.
“Fives,” you breathe, pushing back against him. “Faster.”
His hips still, pressed up against your body. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to die.” you say, reaching out to grip one of his wrists. “So fuck me like you mean it.”
You can feel the weight of his stare for a long moment, wishing you could see his face in the artificial light of the lamp. It’s getting dark outside, the sun finally starting to set. “As the lady commands.” He says, lowering himself down on his elbows above you. His chest presses against your back, the plastoid armor covering his body cool against your heated skin.
His hips start to snap against yours in short, sharp thrusts, your eyes rolling back as you finally get some of the friction you’ve been dying for. Your hands grip the mat under your body, your hips pressing up against his, meeting his thrusts. For the first time in hours you’re finally starting to feel a hint of relief, an orgasm quickly building from the drag of his cock against that spot inside of you.
“Fives…” You breathe, fingers starting to cramp from how tightly they’re gripping the mat under you. Your clit is dragging across the rough material with every downward thrust of his hips, only adding to the pleasure coursing through you.
He curses, small groans leaving his lips. He’s trying to be quiet, even though the others outside the tent know what’s happening. The wet squelch of your soaked pussy can’t be helped, though, more and more arousal dripping out of you from the burning heat beneath your skin and the cramping in your abdomen.
“Oh, fuck, Fives.” You moan, back arching. “I’m gonna cum.”
“You gonna cum?” He leans down, groaning in your ear, breath hot against your sweat-slicked skin.
“Yes, yes!” You cry, your body shuddering as you’re thrown into an orgasm.
He slows his thrusts to languid movements, his body lifting off of you just slightly. There’s still a deep cramping in your stomach, the heat burning beneath your skin. It’s not enough.
“Again.” You breathe, reaching back towards him.
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “As you wish.”
He begins to thrust his hips against yours again, picking up the pace to a near brutal snapping of his hips. Already you can feel pleasure burning through you, almost as if you hadn’t just had an orgasm.
You cum twice more, shaking under Fives but this time he doesn’t stop, his hips still snapping against your ass in quick, short thrusts. The heat is beginning to dissipate, the itch finally calming. You’re a drooling mess, Fives’ hand wrapped around the back of your neck, keeping your head down as he plows into you. Breathy moans slip from his lips, his fingers curling into the mat like yours had. He’s close to his own orgasm. You’re shocked he’s lasted this long.
“Gonna cum.” He groans, his movements starting to get sloppy. “Where do you want me?”
“Inside,” you gasp, already getting close to another orgasm.
“Fuck…” he lets out a long groan, snapping his hips against your ass almost brutally before he stills, his cock pulsing inside of you as he cums.
Another orgasm shudders through your body at the feeling of him filling you, your body giving out as you lay flat against the bed. Fives collapses over you, pressing his face against your shoulder. He’s breathing heavily, almost as heavy as you are. You can feel his hot breaths against your sweat-slick skin.
“Feeling better?” He asks, pushing himself back up.
You are. The heat is receding from beneath your skin and the itch has been satiated. There’s still light cramping in your stomach but not nearly what it was before. In fact, you’re starting to feel cold. A shiver runs down your spine as you suddenly become aware of how much the air has cooled as it brushes against your sweat-slick skin.
Fives pulls away from you, your pussy clenching at the sudden loss. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, a wince crossing your face. That’s going to be fun to clean up later. Fives grabs a blanket from your pack, tossing it over you as you turn onto your side. He grabs his belt and kama before standing.
He won’t look at you.
“Fives?” You ask quietly as he redresses himself from the little he’d taken off. He hums, still avoiding looking at you.
A pang of hurt flashes through you. He could at least look you in the face after fucking you. He makes for the entrance to the tent, shoulders tense and tight.
“Fives!” You call, pushing yourself up onto a shaking arm. You’re exhausted, your brain fighting for something to say. You want to yell at him, beg him to look at you, but all you can come up with is a weak: “Thank you.”
He nods, glancing at you over his shoulder before he leaves the tent.
You lay back down, a tear sliding down your cheek from the awkward encounter. Maybe you should have chosen one of the others. Jesse would have probably kissed you after that.
Kix comes back into the tent kneeling down beside you. He straps the monitor back onto your arm, scanning your forehead to take your temperature.
“Your temperature has lowered significantly.” He says, setting the device aside. “So has your heart rate.”
“That’s good.” You murmur, snuggling under the blanket.
“The extraction team will be here in half an hour.” He says, grabbing your clothes from the end of the mat. “We should at least get you back into your blacks.”
Less questions that way.
You let him help you, easing your exhausted body back into your clothes, giving you at least a modicum of decency.
You’re half asleep when the ships touch down, Kix and another trooper easing you onto a stretcher. Exhaustion from the day and its events tugs at the back of your mind, all the adrenaline that had been pumping through you wearing off, leaving you shaking and weak.
You turn your head to the side as they get ready to load you onto the ship, meeting the helmeted gaze of Fives. He quickly looks away, climbing into the other ship with Jesse. You try not to let it bother you, but you can’t help but feel a bit hurt by his sudden avoidance of you.
Maybe it was as awkward for him as it was for you.
Maybe you should have chosen Jesse.
***
You’re back to work after some IV fluids and two days mandatory rest. Kix would have pushed for more, but he knew you’d break those rules anyway. A bacta shot had revived you after your return to the Resolute, but you did spend the better part of those two days resting. You still feel a bit sapped of energy, just your body ridding itself of the lasting effects of the toxic, the clone medical officer that had overseen your recovery said. The bump left over by the insect’s stinger has healed, down to hardly more than a blemish on your skin.
Your downtime also gave you a lot to think about. More precisely, to think about Fives and his reaction. You’ve come to the conclusion that he must have thought what happened between you meant more than it did. All he did was help keep you from dying in a rather unconventional way. That’s all it was. No feelings, no expectations.
Maybe he thought there were those things for you.
That’s why you seek him out after second meal, cornering him in the hallway. You’re glad he’s alone, catching him in one of those rare moments when Torrent Company isn’t moving together as a single unit throughout the flagship. It must be some miracle from the Maker, some kind of blessing after everything you went through.
“Fives!” You call out, his body stiffening as he pauses. He turns slowly as you run up to him in the thankfully quiet hallway.
“Yeah?” He asks, his brows furrowing as he stares down at you. Finally he’s looking at you, though he seems nervous. Maybe it was shame after all. Perhaps he feels ashamed for what he did, and in his shame he couldn’t look at you. You need to fix this stat.
“I just...wanted to talk about what happened...between us.” You say, suddenly nervous too.
He swallows thickly, lips pressing into a line as he nods. “Yeah.”
“I just...wanted to let you know that I picked you because I knew it wouldn’t mean anything to you.”
Something flashes over his face, his features twisting in almost a pained look for merely half a second before he cools them, finding his composure. “Right.” He clears his throat. “It wouldn’t mean anything.”
“And I also wanted to say thank you, again.” You quickly add, trying to ignore the way the look in his eyes is deepening.
He nods. “You’re, uh, you’re welcome.”
You nod, glad you got what you needed to say off your chest. “So...it just...it didn’t mean anything beyond you just saving my life.”
He winces, his gaze lowering from your face for a moment before he nods. “Yeah. It didn’t mean anything.” He shifts on his feet. “I should, uh, get going.”
“Right.” You say, stepping to the side. “I don’t want to keep you.”
He walks away without another word, his back tense and tight as he makes his way down the hall. You watch him go, something nagging in the back of your mind about the conversation that just transpired.
***
You don’t see Fives again for days.
If you thought more about it, you might have come to the conclusion that he was purposefully avoiding you, but as the 501st is thrown into another campaign right away, you don’t have much time to dwell on such things.
You’re busy as always, patching up troopers, saving their lives, doing everything you can to keep as many of them alive as you can.
It’s when things are beginning to calm in the med bay that you see him. Fives. He’s sitting on a gurney, waiting in line to be looked at. You nearly run over to him, elbowing one of your fellow medics out of the way as you come to a stop in front of him.
“Fives!” You say cheerily, his eyes widening as you appear in front of him.
“Oh, hi, Doc.” He greets you, clearing his throat. He holds out his arm, revealing a rather nasty scratch on the inside of his elbow. He’s already removed his vambrace and rerebrace, his blacks tugged up to his bicep.
You hiss through your teeth, grabbing some disinfectant and a bacta patch from the drawer next to the gurney. “That looks painful.”
“I’ve had worse.” He shrugs.
It’s true. You’ve seen him in worse shape.
“Still,” you say, your fingers wrapping around his arm to hold it still. “This might sting.”
He winces as you dab the disinfectant on the wound, careful to get any possible debris out.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.” You say softly, wiping his arm clean.
“It’s been a busy campaign.” He says.
“Right.” You nod, placing the bacta patch over his wound, waiting for the lights to turn blue before stepping back. “Leave that on for a couple hours. It’ll probably scar though.”
“That’s fine.” He says stiffly, pulling his sleeve down. He slides off the bed before grabbing the rest of his armor.
“I’ll see you around.” You say to his back.
“Yeah.” He says, turning to glance at you over his shoulder before he leaves the med bay.
“Well that was awkward.” Mira, one of your fellow civilian medics says. “Usually he’s all up on you when you’re that close and personal with him.”
“He doesn’t get all up and personal.” You say, shaking your head.
She gives you a look. “Yeah. Sure.” She shrugs. “Something definitely happened between you two.”
Your face warms just a bit. Both Rex and Kix had agreed not to go into details about what happened during...that mission. They’d given the barest possible description. Just a bug bite that went wrong. Some bacta stabilized you until you could get proper treatment. Nothing about you fucking a clone to survive.
“N-Nothing happened.” You say, quickly disposing of the supplies you used.
“Mhm.” She hums in a disbelieving tone. “Let me guess...he saw you with someone else.”
You make a face. “What? Why would that matter.”
Mira rolls her eyes. “Please, he’s totally in love with you. He practically drools every time he sees you.”
“No he doesn’t.” You scrunch your nose. “He’s nothing more than a friend.”
“Mm so that’s it.” She says, making her way to the next clone in line. “You friendzoned him.”
“Can’t friendzone someone who has no feelings for you.” You say, moving to the next gurney.
“Uh huh. Sure. No feelings.” She rolls her eyes. “Girl, you’re denser than a doornail.”
You shake your head, focusing on the clone in front of you with a blaster shot to the shoulder. Fives doesn’t have feelings for you. Sure he’s comfortable and flirty with you, but so are the rest of Torrent Company. Hell, even some of the other clones in the 501st like to hit on the civilian medics. When you’re that up close and personal with them...you don’t blame them when they spend most of their time around each other.
Fives doesn’t feel that way about you...right?
He can’t. He’s just your friend.
You jab the bacta needle a little too hard into the clone’s shoulder, earning a yowl of pain.
“Sorry…” You make a face. “Got lost in thought.”
“No kidding.” He says, rubbing his shoulder. “You know, if things don’t work out with Fives, you’re more than welcome to hit me up.” He grins salaciously at you.
“Why does everyone think there’s something between Fives and I?” You ask.
“It’s pretty obvious how he feels.” The clone says. “You could ask any clone on this ship and he’d know. Hell, I’m sure even the General knows.”
Your face heats up, and you shake your head. “No, I still don’t think so.”
He shrugs. “Have it your way.” He jumps down off the cot after you wrap his shoulder. “Just keep my offer in mind.”
“Thanks…”
“Tup, ma’am.” He says, saluting you playfully.
You roll your eyes. “Get out of here, Tup.”
He chuckles and you move on to the next clone waiting to get his wounds addressed.
***
You’re starting to believe them.
Fives has continued to do his best to evade your presence, even going so far as to leave the mess hall with a half full tray of food when you enter. It hurts, knowing you’ve messed up your friendship with him. Even the others are awkward around you now, like they’re tiptoeing around live ammunition when you’re near. More than once it’s left you in tears. It’s not fair. You couldn’t have stopped getting stung by that bug and you couldn’t help what happened to you after.
Of course sleeping with one of your close friends, be it for survival or not, would make things awkward, and you don’t blame them for taking their brother’s side. Bros before hoes right? The thought that they might think of you that way makes you wince.
Kix is the only one acting normal around you, but then again, working in close quarters makes it hard to avoid each other. Perhaps it’s just guilt that keeps him cordial, that he couldn’t do more to help you, that he couldn’t fix what was wrong without having to resort to those means.
You’re not sure what to think anymore.
You finally grow tired of their attitudes after another campaign. You’re exhausted and overworked and perhaps a tad bit emotional over how many men were lost during this battle. It’s perhaps not fair that you corner Jesse as he’s coming out of the med bay covered in bacta patches.
“Jesse!” you call out, racing down the hall to him.
He turns, his brows raising in surprise for a moment before his face cools. “Yeah?”
You come to a stop in front of him, forcing his back up against the wall. “Spill.”
His brows furrow in confusion. “What?”
“I want an explanation as to why you’re all treating me like I have the plague. Why Fives keeps doing everything in his power to avoid me.” You say.
Realization crosses his face for a moment before he lapses back into a neutral look, his back straightening. “I don’t really think it’s my place to-”
“Jesse,” you cut him off. “Please. I-I don’t know why you’re all so upset with me. It’s not like I could help what happened and…” you sigh. “I didn’t want it to ruin things between us. That’s why I wanted Fives to be the one to do it. I knew it wouldn’t mean anything to him.”
Jesse gulps, wincing as he stares down at you. “You thought it wouldn’t mean anything to him?”
“Well, yeah.” you shrug. “None of his other...escapades have meant anything.”
“Yeah, but...you’re...you.” Jesse says. “You’re our Doc. It was always going to mean something.”
You drop your gaze to his chestplate, frowning. “But I’m just a medic.”
“You’re so much more than that.” Jesse says softly. “To him, to all of us.”
Your shoulders slump, tears blurring your vision. Of course it would mean more to them than you thought. You’re not just some one night stand picked up at 79s. You’re…you.
“Look...I think it’s best you just sit him down and talk to him.” Jesse says.
“That would be easy if I could find him.” You say.
“He likes to hit the range after second meal.” Jesse says. “He’s there pretty much every day.”
You nod. “Thanks, Jesse.”
He nods, patting your shoulder. “Get some rest, Doc. You look like you need it.”
You look him over, at the many bacta patches covering him. “I could say the same to you. I don’t know why they’re letting you walk out of here right now.”
“It’s nothing too bad.” He waves you off. “Mostly just superficial.”
“Uh huh.” You say, but you take a step back. “Take it easy, okay? For me?”
He grins. “Anything for you, Doc.”
***
You do find Fives after second meal, just as Jesse said, in the range. You’ve only been in the training areas a handful of times, mostly responding to injuries the men get when they go a little hard on each other. Some bacta and a slap on the wrist is usually the standard of care for those kinds of injuries.
Fives is firing rather angrily at a droid, over and over and over. He’s tense, shoulders squared and you can see the way his brows are pulled together. You wait until he’s done, not wanting to startle him and possibly have to make your own trip to the med bay. Fives probably wouldn’t shoot you, but with him wound so tight, you can’t be sure.
“Fives?” You say quietly once he’s done, blaster lowered to his side.
He glances at you over his shoulder. “What do you want?”
“I’m here to talk.” you say as he raises his blaster once more.
“What makes you think I want to talk to you?” He snaps.
“Because I want you to tell me what’s going on.” You say, shouting over the sound of his blaster.
He pauses, his shoulders sinking a bit.
“We’re friends, Fives. Nothing about that has changed.” You say.
“That’s just it.” He says, turning on you. He holsters his blaster, taking a step towards you. “Nothing changed. You made me…” he cuts himself off with a sharp breath, his hand curling into a fist. “And it was supposed to mean nothing?”
You gulp, eyes widening at the intense look on his face. “I-It wasn’t. That’s why I chose you. None of your other one night stands have meant anything to you.”
“Because they’re not you.”
The words echo in the silence, your heart beating hard in your chest. “What?”
He swallows thickly, taking another step towards you. “They weren’t you, Doc. They were just...distractions from what I couldn’t have.”
Tears burn behind your eyes, your heart thumping rapidly in your chest. “Fives…”
It’s all coming together for you. His playful flirting with you, the way he always made sure you sat next to him, his protective streak when you were caught in combat with them, his reaction after...his stiff avoidance of you after you told him it meant nothing to you.
Kriff, you’re an idiot.
His steps are slow, careful, like he’s approaching a wild animal. You don’t move, your body tingling from all of the realizations slamming into you left and right. They were right. They were all right.
He stops inches from you, staring down at you. You hold his gaze, a stray tear sliding down your cheek.
“It wasn’t supposed to mean anything to you.” You whisper.
“It meant everything to me.” He says quietly.
More tears slide down your cheeks, your breath hitching in your chest. His eyes are so big, so soft as they stare down at you. His hand lifts, sliding up your arm to your elbow. The touch is so gentle, so intimate.
“You have no idea what it meant, that you trusted me like that. You trusted me to take care of you when you were so vulnerable. But you didn’t know...how could you have known?” His grip tightens just slightly around your arm. “I tried to imagine it was just another bucket bunny, but...I couldn’t.” His hand slides up your arm, over your shoulder to your face where he cups your cheek. “It was you, Doc. It was always you.”
“Oh Fives,” you whisper, sniffling. “Everyone knew but me...I couldn’t see it. Why didn’t you say anything?”
His gaze drops from yours. “I didn’t know how you would feel about it, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“It wouldn’t have ruined anything.” You say, leaning into the rough fabric of his glove on your cheek. You can feel the warmth of his hand through it seeping into your own skin.
“Well, I know that now.” He says, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
You groan, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chestplate. “Couple of idiots, aren’t we?”
He chuckles, his arms wrapping around you. “I think you could say that.”
You lean against him for a moment, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest against you. The sharp shard of fear strikes through you at the thought that someday you might lose him, but you push it aside, focusing on the here and now.
His hands grip your arms, pulling you back away from him. One of his hands slides up your arm as you stare up at him, at the deep emotion shining in those big brown eyes. His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing your lips. He stays there for a moment, just staring at you, taking you in.
“Kiss me, idiot.” You say, breaking the silence.
His face breaks in a grin before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and sweet, everything you hoped it would be. His hands drop to your waist as yours wrap around his neck, pressing against his pauldrons.
“I really hate your armor sometimes.” You murmur against his lips.
He smirks, kissing you again. “Would you prefer me without it?”
You pull back for a moment, pretending to think about it. “Well, you’ve seen me mostly naked, so it’s only fair.”
A wide grin forms on his face, his hand dropping to yours, lacing your fingers together. “Well, lucky for you I’m free this afternoon.”
***
The two of you slip into the barracks, giggling like a couple of teenagers, fingers entwined.
The barracks are miraculously empty, Fives approaching his bed to find a datapad sitting on top of the blankets. He picks it up, reading the text on the screen.
“Jesse.” You both say at the same time.
“Cheeky bastard.” Fives grins, tossing the datapad onto the bed next to his.
“I mean, I did corner him in the med bay yesterday.” You say.
“You did what?” Fives asks, turning to face you, halfway through pulling off his pauldrons.
You shrug. “I wanted answers. He’s the one who told me where to find you.”
Fives mutters something under his breath as he drops his pauldron to the floor, making quick work of his belt and kama as well. You help him remove the rest of his armor with well practiced fingers.
“You’re good at this.” He says, almost jealously.
You roll your eyes. “Calm down big guy. I’ve had to remove enough clone armor in the infirmary I know all the seams and pieces.”
“Right.” Fives nods, dropping the last piece into the pile on the floor, leaving him just in his blacks.
He pulls off his gloves before leaning down to kiss you again, his hands falling to your waist to tug at your own clothes. You’d dressed down today, finally free from the med bay until the next campaign.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.” He says against your lips, tugging your shirt up before he pulls back.
You pull your shirt up over your head, goosebumps forming on your skin from the cool air in the barracks. Fives makes quick work of his own shirt, exposing his toned body to you. You lick your lips, tracing every line of his muscle. That was one way in which they all varied beyond just the way they styled themselves. Different clones with different jobs had different muscular builds. Fives is all hard muscle, biceps bulging as he tugs his pants down, kicking them off.
You try not to stare at the half-hard cock between his thighs, just as large and veiny as you imagined.
Fuck, he’s just as pretty as you imagined.
You tug your pants and underwear down, stripping off your breastband so you’re standing naked before him. His eyes trace over your form, a low whistle leaving his lips. “Kriff, you’re gorgeous.” he almost sighs, hands falling to your waist to pull you close, bodies pressed together. “This is how I pictured our first time going.”
You avoid his gaze, turning to look to the side. “I’m sorry it wasn’t.”
“Don’t,” he says, gripping your chin lightly to turn your face back to his. “I don’t know if I could have handled having to listen to one of the others in that tent with you.”
“Well, my second pick was Jesse, so…”
Fives rolls his eyes, moving you closer to the bed. “That idiot would have fallen in love with you after that.”
You grin, maneuvering yourself onto his bed. “That’s why I didn’t choose him.”
Fives crawls onto the small mattress with you, pushing your legs apart with his knees. You lay back, staring up at his face as he stares back at you. He pauses there for just a moment, taking you in under him. “This is how it should have been.” He says softly.
He leans down to kiss you again, his body pressing against yours. You hum at the feel of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue presses past your lips, flicking against your own. You moan softly, sinking your fingers into his curls. His hips grind against your stomach, dragging his cock across your skin. You’re already wet, arousal seeping out of you at the prospect of having him again...properly this time.
Fives pulls away from your lips, kissing his way down your jaw to your neck. His teeth sink into your skin lightly, leaving a mark below your ear.
“Fives!” you complain, tugging at his hair. “Everyone will see!”
“Good.” he almost growls, kissing his way across your throat. “Let them.”
You swallow thickly at his show of possession, your hand sliding from his hair as he continues to kiss down your body. His hands cup your tits, thumbs running over your nipples.
“I love your tits.” he says, squeezing them gently. “Shame that they get hidden under armor so much.”
You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “They don’t like it either. That armor is tight.”
“My poor girls.” He whines, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth.
Your laugh comes out as half a moan, back arching from the pleasurable sensation.
“I’ll give them love later.” He says, sliding the rest of the way down your body. “Right now, I have better things to do.”
You swallow thickly as your head lifts, watching him lay himself between your legs as best he can on the small bed. His warm breath fans against your wet folds, sending a shiver through you. His lips press against your inner thigh, blazing a path of kisses upwards. His gaze lifts to meet yours as his hands shift to grip your hips, adjusting your position on the bed before he leans in, dragging his tongue through your folds.
You gasp at the sensation, your thighs pressing against his broad shoulders. His mouth is warm as it closes over your pussy, his tongue licking another slow stripe up your folds until he reaches the spot that has your inhale turning into a gasp.
“Fives…” You sigh.
He focuses his attention there, dragging slow lines across your clit with his tongue. You flop back onto the bed, back arching from the pleasure. Little whimpers leave your lips as he teases your clit, your thighs already trembling. It hasn’t been that long, but the thought of it being Fives doing this has you riled up. You’re not going to last very long, not with his sweet mouth eating you like a man starved.
You don’t last very long.
Your thighs squeeze around his shoulders as your orgasm is ripped from you suddenly. You let out a cry that’s probably too loud, but you don’t care who could have heard you as your back arches off the bed, pressing your hips closer to Fives’ face. His hands hold your thighs, keeping you still as his tongue continues to tease your clit, working you through your orgasm.
It’s not until you’re writhing in his grasp, letting out little whimpers that he relents, lifting his face from between your thighs. His face is shiny with your slick, his tongue darting out to lick his lips salaciously. It’s obscene and yet, it has heat pulsing straight between your legs again.
He lets out a chuckle, pushing himself back up the bed until you’re face to face. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you again, his hard cock dragging against your stomach. His knee hooks under your thigh, pushing it up higher as he slots his body between your legs. He pulls away from your lips, holding himself up so he can grip his cock.
“Ready?” He asks, staring into your eyes.
You nod, breath hitching in anticipation.
He drags the head of his cock through your folds, gathering some of your wetness before he presses into you. His cock spreads you open, your hands lifting to grip his shoulders. The stretch is delicious, your body opening to him as he sinks further and further into you.
His forehead presses to yours as he seats himself fully into you, both of you breathing deep. “Kriff, you feel so good.” he groans, slipping his arms around you. “Better than the first time.”
You moan softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fives?” He hums in response. “Move.”
He grins, kissing you. “As you wish.”
He begins to move, rocking his hips into yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, hands pressing into his back, feeling the way his muscles flex under his skin with every thrust. You moan softly, head spinning from the thought of being so close to him like this, without the added threat of dying if you don’t cum.
Though you feel you might pass away if he doesn’t make you cum this time.
The wet squelch of your pussy is loud in the empty barracks as he thrusts into you, the mattress squeaking a bit as he thrusts into you, slow and deep. It’s so different from the frantic fucking you had the first time. This is slow, intimate, dare you say romantic. He’s taking his time, drawing out your pleasure so it lasts as long as possible.
“Kriffing feel so good.” He groans in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.
“Fives…” you moan, clinging to him tightly. “Don’t let me go.”
“Never.” He promises, tightening his hold around you, one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck as he grinds his hips against yours.
You’re getting close, the drag of his cock sending you reeling. He’s close as well, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. Your toes are curling, body squeezing his. It’s better than you thought, but that’s probably because it’s Fives.
“Fives…” you moan his name again, nails digging into his back as he picks up the pace, snapping his hips into yours.
“Gonna cum for me? Need you to cum for me.” He grunts, in your ear, lips brushing your skin.
You let out a whine, arching against him as you seek your second high of the day. His cock brushes that spot inside of you, stars nearly erupting behind your eyes.
“Right there.” You gasp, thighs shaking around his hips. “Fuck, right there!”
You’re being loud but you don’t care, nails dragging down his back as he focuses his thrusts right at that spot inside you. You cum with a cry, pussy squeezing around him. He lets out a loud groan, his hips stilling as he twitches inside you. His muscles go lax, his body falling on top of yours. He manages to keep himself from squishing you beneath him, his face pressing against your neck.
The smell of sex is thick in the air, but you don’t care. You’re shaking, still wrapped tightly around Fives as he lays on top of you. He’s breathing heavily, warm breaths fanning against your neck. You don’t want to move, your mind buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm still.
“You alright?” He murmurs, lips pressing a gentle kiss against your throat.
You nod, still holding him tightly. You don’t want to let him go yet. You want to hold him here, keep him here forever.
But you can’t. You both have lives you have to go back to, jobs you’re expected to do.
You’ve never understood desertion, but now you do.
“Fives?” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.
“Yeah?” he breathes, pushing himself up so he’s staring down at you.
You stare up at him for a long moment, taking in his face, those soft brown eyes. “Don’t die.”
His lips twitch as he stares back, something flashing across his face. “I don’t plan on it.”
“Good.” You pull him back down against you. “I’d never forgive you if you did.”
He chuckles, rolling over so you’re on your sides. He pulls the blanket up over your bodies, tucking you against his chest. The moment is tender, soft, intimate. So different from what you had the first time.
You wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“Fives?” You murmur, resting your cheek against his chest.
He hums, his fingers drawing patters on your bare back.
“How long until the others break in?”
He thinks for a moment, going still before you feel his grin against the top of your head. “Long enough for another round.”
“Good.” You say, pushing him over onto his back, sitting yourself up over him. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
He smirks, his hands settling on your thighs. “Yes, ma’am.”
Could I get a 501st x reader who just passes out a lot. Like, randomly. And they're just used to it at this point because she constantly just collapses on them. They're a little concerned but they've learned not to worry because shes usually back on her feet in a few minutes.
Lmao i think i have a fainting problem because if i stand for too long i get lightheaded and sometimes pass out. (i should probably get that checked out...)
Absolutely! (And yes—gently but firmly—you should definitely get that checked out. Please take care of yourself, yeah?)
“She’ll Be Fine”
501st x Reader
There’s a rhythm to war.
Blasterfire, shouted orders, boots crunching gravel. The thrum of dropships overhead, the jarring shake when they land. And then—like clockwork—thud.
“…She’s down again.”
Kix doesn’t even look up from where he’s crouched beside a trooper with a blaster burn to the shoulder. “Give her a minute.”
Rex sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Did anyone at least catch her this time?”
“Jesse did,” Fives pipes up helpfully, holding a limp arm draped over his shoulder like he’s helping his drunk vod home from 79s. “She almost took me down with her. Nearly headbutted my chestplate.”
“Again,” Jesse mutters, grunting as he adjusts his hold on you. You’re out cold, slumped like a ragdoll with your forehead against his pauldron. “You need a warning bell or somethin’, sweetheart.”
“She doesn’t get a warning,” Kix says, finally glancing over. “That’s the problem.”
You groan faintly, and five sets of blue-trimmed helmets snap toward you like a pack of startled tookas.
“Okay, okay, she’s coming around,” Fives says, like this is normal. Because, well… it kind of is now.
You blink up at Jesse, squinting in confusion. “Did I…?”
“Yep.”
“Oh.”
Jesse rolls his eyes, but there’s a protective arm still firm around your waist. “Standing too long again?”
You look sheepish, rubbing your forehead. “The sun didn’t help either. I was trying to hydrate this time.”
“You say that every time,” Kix says, making his way over now that his patient is patched up. He shines a small penlight in your eyes, already expecting you to squint. “No head injury, no concussion signs. Pulse is steady. Nothing new.” He mutters, “Not that that makes it better.”
“I said I’m fine,” you insist.
“And I said stop passing out on my men,” Rex grunts, stepping up beside you with his arms crossed.
You flash him a faint grin. “I think you’re just mad it wasn’t you I collapsed on this time.”
Fives hoots with laughter. Jesse nearly drops you.
Rex blinks slowly behind his helmet. “I am reassigning you to Kix.”
“Absolutely not,” Kix says immediately. “She chooses violence. I swear she aims herself at whoever’s closest. Last week she fainted on Dogma mid-briefing and he thought she’d died.”
“That was one time,” you groan.
“You knocked his helmet clean off on the way down,” Fives adds, delighted. “He screamed.”
Rex pinches the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t sustainable.”
“She’ll be fine,” Kix sighs. “She always is.”
“Yeah, until she faints into a ravine or something,” Jesse grumbles. Still, he doesn’t let go until he’s sure your legs aren’t going to betray you again.
You brush off your tunic, wobbly but upright. “I’ve got it. I’m good. See?” You take two steps—and then sway.
Hardcase materializes out of nowhere to catch you like it’s a sport. “Gotcha,” he chirps cheerfully. “Fifth time this week! I win the pool!”
“You were betting on this?!” Rex snaps.
“You weren’t?”
⸻
The 501st has gotten used to you—fainting spells and all.
Fives has mastered the art of swooping in like a theatrical hero when you go down.
Kix carries spare salt tabs and juice packs just for you.
Jesse pretends to be annoyed, but he’s the first to shield you from the sun if you look even a little off-color.
And Rex? Rex never says anything directly. But his helmet always tips your way if you stand too still for too long. He never walks past you without a glance. And somehow—somehow—he’s always just there when you go down.
(You suspect he’s caught you more than anyone else, even if he doesn’t brag about it.)
Still, one evening as you lie in the medbay after a longer spell than usual, he sits beside you, arms folded, helmet off. His expression is tight.
“You should talk to the medcenter on Coruscant when we rotate back.”
You nod quietly. “I know.”
Rex doesn’t say good. He just rests a gloved hand over yours and looks at you like you’re more fragile than you like to admit.
“We can handle your dramatics,” he says finally, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “But I don’t want to lose you to something we could’ve fixed.”
You squeeze his fingers gently.
“I’ll get checked.”
The sigh he lets out is quiet—but relieved.
“Good. ‘Cause next time, you’re not landing on Jesse. You’re landing on me.”
Jump Then Fall by @jedipoodoo
Borrowed Time by @dindjarindiaries
Wounds Unseen by @dindjarindiaries
Rush by @dindjarindiaries
Tech
Totally Not Crushing by @vekreng
Teasing Tech by @stellarbit
*I Told You So by @cc--2224
*How fast...? by @nahoney22
Perfectly Plucked by @nahoney22
Darling by yours truly
*(Not) Broken by @motherroam-rs
Crosshair
*Between Us by @nahoney22
Sniper by @justaparsec94
*Reunion by @justaparsec94
Enclosed Intentions by @crosshairlovebot
Echo
Kiss Me Quick by @nahoney22
Fives
*Unattached by @motherroam-rs
Captain Rex
Where Trust Falls Apart by @captn-trex
Wolffe
First Kiss part 1 & *2 by @tanobatcher
Howzer
*Domination by @merlincmgirl
Cal Kestis
*Balance by @multi-fan-dom-madness
Din Djarin
Stormy Skies by @deakyjoe
^*Bloodlust by @dindjarindiaries
definitely more to add, i've just been on a tbb kick, din will be next and you'll see like 30 more added (most will unsurprisingly probably by @dindjarindiaries)
SUMMARY: Five times Fives tries to get your name, and the one time he gets it. Along with something more.
CONTENT: 7k wc, 501st shenanigans, Porn with plot, Bets, Semi-public sex, Jealousy, Sexual tension, PIV sex, Not beta read. Fives girlies this one's for y'all.
RATING: EXPLICIT
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79’s was always an experience to work in.
It's only been a month since you started working as a bartender, and you have gotten a lot of action the moment your first shift started. To say the least, you developed a knack for identifying each clone that came and went into the bar from all the troubles they committed.
It was necessary, and somewhat helpful. It saved you more trouble than remembering their designated numbers, less of a hassle too. Their names, as you have found out, held a significant meaning to them. A marker of their identity. Something they both cherished and hated at the same time. Cherished because it was theirs, the only possession they could have in a galaxy where they weren't recognized as citizens, and hated because some of the names were handpicked by their own brothers.
So, you've come to learn each of their names—at least the ones that stuck to memory or left an impression—and their respective personalities.
You did admit.
The idea of working in a clone bar intimidated you at first. After all, these men were soldiers. War veterans, naval officers, experienced troopers, and more. Even the rookies, or Shinies as they called them, bred a kind of energy that came across as inexperienced yet unpredictable.
But you needed the credits to pay for rent and your living expenses. So, you took the chance.
Fortunately, your fears vanished when you started your first day in the clone bar.
You discovered most of the clones were surprisingly pleasant to interact with. At least the ones who were smiling and laughing. They were unlike anything you've expected. Rowdy, maybe, but not entirely terrible. A lot of them were funny too. You don't remember a night where you haven't laughed at one or two of their shenanigans, even when you have to deal with the mess later.
In your second month, you were still getting used to the atmosphere of this clone bar. Like the tides, they keep on changing constantly. Some nights, you'd expect a bar brawl between two drunken battalions. Other nights, it was as peaceful and mellow as a senatorial gala. The latter usually happened every time the clones would get deployed, and the only ones staying were those on current shore leave.
This time, however, new faces greeted you as soon as you saw them step through the entrance.
Blue.
Each one of them was marked with a royal blue coating. Their helmets varied, and they quickly claimed the space as if it was theirs the moment they stepped inside. One by one they marched in, laughing and elbowing each other. Some looked genuinely happy to be here, whilst the others appeared they wanna be somewhere else.
“Oh, Maker.” Beside you, your coworker exhaled out a long sigh. “The 501st are back.”
501st?
You've never met the battalion before. Or was it legion? You've heard of them before from previous patrons. Naval officers spoke of them with mixed admiration and exasperation, Shinies praised their skills and feats, while other battalions simply warned you about the trouble they'd bring. Much like their general, Anakin Skywalker, those troopers were nothing but massive headaches—efficient yet reckless.
Glancing at the Twi'lek, you shot her an amused smile behind the counter. “Seems like they have a reputation here. Mind filling me in on the details?”
Kara pursed her lips, a narrowed cerulean gaze set on the newcomers. “Whatever you've heard from the others, they're not even half of what you're about to witness. And it looks like they're on leave too. Just our luck.”
A week's leave.
Five nights you'll expect to see them here, or at least some of them.
You inclined your head, curiosity gnawing in your stomach. “They’re that bad? I mean, they look the same as the rest to me.”
She tossed you a long look, before she shook her head.
“Trust me, hon. I've worked here longer than you. These men are far worse.”
“Worse how?”
“The week’s long. You'll see.”
“That's comforting.”
You turned back to the blue-painted pack, watching them all scamper towards a booth at the far corner of the bar. Huddled together, making use of the long seats to make space for the other until they were all squished inside. Well, you can already feel the headache lying in wait at the back of your head.
They're still customers.
Mustering up a service smile, you greeted one of the other patrons coming up to the bar. Meanwhile, you can't shake the feeling of someone watching you as you worked on making drinks.
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“Who is she?”
Fives exhaled in awe, wide eyes tracking your movement from behind the bar.
Beside him, Echo followed his line of sight and sighed in realization. “Fives, don’t even think about it. We're here for drinks. Not for whatever it is on your mind.”
The ARC trooper merely scoffed, but he still didn't tear his eyes away from you. “Lighten up, Echo. We're on leave. Can't we have a little relaxation while we're here?”
“I know you, vod.” Echo rolled his eyes. “Once you get curious, you're not stopping until you get to the bottom of it.”
That was true.
Master Shaak Ti commented on his curiosity once. Way back when he was still a cadet, he always questioned the mechanics of things. Like her Jedi Order, the Kaminoans, the worlds, anything and everything that intrigued his little mind. The Jedi entertained him sometimes, providing vague answers and cryptic messages that only fueled more questions within him. Maybe that was what separated him from his brothers. His curiosity alone can get him into more trouble, but it could also win him your name.
And maybe something more.
It's not often the 501st gets a chance to take breaks. Their legion seemed to be most favored by the Republic, always on duty and deployed in every system in the galaxy. This week, however, they get a leave where they could forget the war. Albeit brief, Fives wanted to spend each second to the fullest. It might be his last leave, after all.
Someone else laughed, causing Fives to look back and see Jesse wearing a mischievous grin.
“Careful, trooper. I have a feeling that one's way above your league.”
“And who says so?”
“Says us.”
“Oh, yeah? I bet I can get her name.”
That captured everyone's attention.
Rex, who was forced to join them despite his wishes to turn in for the night, pinched his brows together. He muttered something along the lines of being too tired for this kark, and proceeded to sink into his seat. Jesse and Hardcase turned to each other and grinned, no doubt formulating a plan in their heads. Tup and Kix shot him incredulous looks, briefly sharing a glance. Then, there was Dogma, who seemed unimpressed and unconvinced by his words.
Fives gaped at every single one of them, disbelief flashing across his face. “Seriously? None of you can back me up? Even you Echo?”
Echo looked mildly concerned, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Fives, as much as I keep on tolerating the things you do, this is just out of the question.”
“On the contrary!” Hardcase slammed a hand on their table. “I bet you can't get her name.”
“I bet I can,” Fives glared at him. “What's the bet first?”
“Barracks cleaning duty,” Jesse supplied, and everyone else perked up at the mention. “If you can get her name, Hardcase and I will clean the barracks on our next leave. If you don't, then you do it. For one week.”
Fives scoffed, standing up from his seat. “You're on.”
Wearing his pride like armor, the ARC trooper marched off towards the bar, leaving his brothers in mixed amusement and regret.
Hardcase laughed, waving an arm as he yelled. “Bring us back drinks!”
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You just turned away from attending a customer when you heard someone clear their throat loudly over the music.
“Hello, ma'am. A round of drinks for the table at the back please.”
Turning around, your eyes met with one of the troopers from the blue-painted legion.
Oh no.
Trouble seemed to spot you immediately. Something about his easy grin, or the way his brothers were all staring at the two of you from behind, raised alarm signals in your head. Whatever they were planning, they sent one of their dogs for a show. But you knew enough of clones and their harmless pranks, childish as they come, they still required an eye to look out on.
A smile graced your lips, nearing the counter where he stood. “Hey, there. How many are we bringing?”
The trooper, whom you noticed carried a distinct tattoo on the side of his forehead, raised up his fingers. “Eight would do. It's just us eight for now, but there will be more joining us later.”
More of them?
Already, you felt yourself sweating. Still you forced yourself to laugh politely.
“Alright, eight drinks coming right up. May I ask your name, please?”
“It's Fives.”
“Like your tattoo?”
“Yeah, and my number. CT-5555.”
You smiled at the new discovery, not missing the way his gaze flickered over his shoulder.
Bartending developed certain skills out of you. One of which was being observant. Yeah, they were definitely planning something. You could see the way his brothers kept hiding a laugh behind their hands, the rest tried not to get caught staring, and two of them looked like they were about to jump out of the table to flee the vicinity.
“Clever,” You nodded at him, still maintaining that neutral smile. “Anything else?”
You watched as the soldier in front of you gulped, shifting slightly on his feet as if you caught him doing something illegal. But then, he schooled his nervousness and stood straighter.
“Your name?” He leaned forward, an elbow resting on the counter as he regarded you closer. “I haven't seen you ‘round here before, ma'am. Just want to be more. . . acquainted with new faces. Especially the pretty ones.”
A flirt.
Of course, he'd be a flirt.
You weren't a stranger to such things anymore.
Ever since you picked up on this job, you've encountered several advances while you're on your shift. Most of the time, the suspects were clones. Other times, just regular patrons wanting to try their luck and woo you with their intoxicated charm. However, you always turned them down the moment they delivered whatever cheesy line they readied.
A casual, “No, thank you. I have a partner” used to work. But times changed, and they weren't buying that anymore. So, you resorted to being straightforward and cutting them off without remorse.
Swift, simple, and efficient.
But since he's trouble, maybe you could play along this time.
Crossing your arms, you leaned forward until your faces were just inches away from each other.
He must've not expected that from the way he blinked in shock. But he made no action to back away, standing his ground and waiting for your next move with that curious glint in his golden brown eyes.
You smiled, studying his features up close.
Just a standard clone you normally see each night—short cropped hair, sharp angular features, strong nose—but his tattoo and goatee made him more distinct than the rest. You could smell the faint scent of smoke on him, most likely from whatever battlefield he just came out of. Maybe his legion went straight to this bar after landing. Maybe that's why his pupils were so dilated—whether from adrenaline or something else.
“Wanna know my name?” You asked him, deliberate and coy, and he nodded absentmindedly like in a trance. “Why? You gonna use it later when you go back to your barracks?”
Surprise flashed across his face, bewildered, before he raised an eyebrow and let his gaze dip below your chin. You felt your cheeks heat up from his wandering gaze, the music around you dulling into a faint white noise. Whatever spell he managed to bring back with him, you could feel its effect seep into your skin the way his eyes lingered in places you knew he was appreciating.
“Maybe I would,” He muttered, voice dropping to a rougher strain. “But I'd prefer if you're there with me.”
Trouble.
Humming, you angled your head to the side and ghosted your lips above his ear.
“My name is,” You smiled at the sharp inhale he made when you grazed the shell of his ear. “None of your business.”
Then, just as quick, you leaned back and smirked at his stunned reaction.
“I'll start with your drinks. Would you mind waiting here?”
It took him a second to snap out of his daze, blinking wildly and clearing his throat as he regained composure.
He stood straight again, much straighter than he did earlier. Tense and ready to pounce. There was a lack of warmth in his gaze when he peered down at you through those dark lashes. No, it wasn't warmth anymore. It was heat. You almost melted on the spot from its intensity, but you stubbornly stood your ground and awaited his response.
In a rougher voice, he answered. “No problem, ma'am. I'll wait.”
You glanced over his shoulder, tossing a wink to his brothers, who snapped their heads away simultaneously.
“Good,” You flashed him a wink. “Sit tight, trooper. I'll go get your drinks ready.”
With a flourish, you pivoted on your heel and walked away. That burning stare you felt from earlier returned. Heavier, darker, and hotter. No matter how hard you try to ignore it, you can't shake off the feeling of how it seared through you the whole time.
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Whatever happened on the first night, it certainly intrigued him to come back for more.
You felt both dread and thrill brewing in your stomach the moment you saw him at the same booth he occupied the night before.
You expected to see all of them huddled together again. However, he was only accompanied by three of his brothers. One with the Republic symbol tattooed on his forehead, beside him another tattooed clone with a jagged line running above his right eye, and the other a standard looking clone who seemed to weary so early in the night.
From the empty glasses on their table, you deduced they’ve been here for quite some time now. Maybe earlier before your shift started.
And maybe, he was waiting for you.
Your assumption was proven correct, because the moment you stood behind the bar, his eyes snapped towards your direction.
And that dangerous curiosity burned in those golden irises again.
The only thing you could do was meet his stare, unflinching, and he simply took a sip of his drink while he maintained eye contact. Peering at you through the rim. Challenging you silently. Trying to lure you closer. But you didn’t take the bait, that would’ve been too easy.
You simply tossed him a smile, and proceeded with your shift.
Ten minutes.
That’s how long it took for him to finally make a move.
Fives slid in the seat right in front of you, his smile was loose but his eyes were sharp, waiting for you to turn your attention to him. When you finally did, his lips stretched and you found yourself staring at the inviting grin forming there.
“Back again?” You placed a hand on your hip, the other on the counter. “Where are the others?”
Fives clutched his chest in mock hurt, pouting slightly. “You’re looking for them when I'm the one right here?”
Rolling your eyes, you took your time assessing him instead of answering.
Tonight, he didn’t wear all of his armor. Just the bottom half of it, while his top was nothing but the tight fabric of his blacks.
And oh, did he mysteriously look bigger? Or was it just the lights?
No, he definitely looked bigger. All clones looked the same, same height and build, or at least the ones you see here. But it only occurred to you that this was the first time you saw one without armor. Usually, it blocked out their true shape and size.
The naval officers all wore those loose gray uniforms as well, so it was difficult to discern their physique.
Not that you were paying them mind.
But right now, you took him in with one slow sweep down his frame.
A firm chest, biceps that bulged and stretched the fabrics, broad shoulders that could entirely dwarf your frame. Underneath certain lights, you caught the dips of muscles on his stomach. If he turned around, you were certain his back was equally muscular. Hands, though gloved, could easily cover the expanse of your thigh in one palm—
“See something you like, ma’am?”
You snapped back to reality, cheeks warm, but the glare you wore was instant. “I’m trying to figure out what kind of trouble you are.”
“Trouble?” Fives chuckled lowly, leaning those muscular arms on the counter. “You think I’m trouble?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“The itchy kind.”
Another grin stretched his lips apart, and you cursed at yourself for almost swooning. “Itchy? Why? Is it because I’m annoying?”
Your gaze flitted up, taking the bait. “No. It’s because I know you’ll keep coming back.”
The ARC Trooper hummed, taking in your words, his eyes never leaving you.
For a moment, you forgot you were in a bar, surrounded by other customers and staff.
Luckily, there were less people around.
One of those calmer nights without brawl fights or drunken shouting. Still, anyone could just see and listen in on whatever that was going on between the two of you. The tension, unlike last night, nearly suffocated you. It doesn't just leave you burning, it has you a little out of breath and your mind wandering into dangerous areas.
Dangerous areas like a dark stockroom. Those large arms holding you up. Legs wrapped around a slim waist. Hands underneath your thighs. Hot breath against your neck. And broad shoulders looming over your frame as he takes you against a wall—
“I can help you with that,” Fives’ voice was rougher when he spoke, almost like he saw the things you were thinking about. “Scratch that itch.”
You crossed your arms, an attempt to guard yourself. “You think you can scratch it?”
The gleam in his eyes darkened, and you were staring back at two eclipses shadowing a thin ring of gold.
“I know I can,” It didn’t sound like a statement. It sounded like a promise. “Just tell me your name, ma’am. And maybe I can help with the itch.”
Kriffing trouble.
Scoffing, you squashed down the temptation and turned around before your mind could change.
“Still none of your business, trooper.”
The next night, he was back again along with more of his brothers and another battalion. Now, they have two booths for themselves. A mix of orange and blue stood out from the gray uniforms and plain white armor. The 501st came in with the 212th, and it was by far the busiest night of your week.
You lost count how many times Kara grumbled about not getting paid enough for this kark and you couldn’t agree more. Although tamer than the 501st, the 212th was just as equally infamous as Skywalker’s legion.
You managed to meet a few from both parties.
Captain Rex from the 501st came to apologize for Fives’ behavior on the first night, and with him was Commander Cody of the 212th.
The two men were decent to talk with. Charming, polite, and certainly out of their elements in a bar full of younger and wilder clones. You eased their discomfort by giving free drinks, throwing in a wink for a good measure. They were gonna need it, after all. You saw the way some women were eyeing them from across the room, and were now slowly making their way towards the bar.
“Enjoy your night, boys.”
You told the two, before they nodded their thanks and made their way back to their booths. But they didn’t make it far when the group of women snatched them by their arms and dragged them off somewhere.
Snickering, you caught the glimpse of their panicked expressions before they disappeared into the crowd.
“Do I get a free drink too?”
Trouble.
You glanced to your side, seeing the familiar sight of Fives sitting on one of the stools. On his lips, a mischievous grin played sinfully at the corners. He wasn’t in his full gear again, completely intentional now, but you didn’t take the bait anymore. Even when he crossed his arms to purposefully flex his arms, you simply raised an eyebrow at him.
“Three nights in a row,” You mused, wiping a glass with a rag absentmindedly. “Should I start feeling special?”
When he shrugged, your gaze briefly went to his shoulders but caught yourself quickly. “You know what they say. Third time’s the charm. Maybe I came back to test that luck.”
Humming, you set the glass down. “Still trying to get that itch scratched?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe, but I’m really here for your name.”
He really was like an itch.
No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it just kept on coming back worse than before. But you’re not giving into the temptation. At least, not yet. Maybe you’d stretch this game of yours until the end of the week, or simply let it pass as another experience working in this bar. But he was on a week's leave, and after this, you weren’t sure if you’d see him again.
You weighed your options, refilling the empty glass.
“You’re not gonna stop, huh?”
“Not until you tell me.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
You sighed, looking around the bar and seeing the amount of people dancing around. “You can have anyone else here. Find someone else to scratch that itch. Someone who’s not behind the bar. Why me?”
That made him pause, and the grin on his lips fell.
For the first time, you were able to see him in a different light other than his flirtatious front. You saw through the cracks of his hesitation, something unknown to you. For a moment, he didn’t give you any answer. Just sat there thinking while you waited. Whatever was on his mind, it certainly bothered him this much to have him look so troubled.
Then, his grin returned as if nothing happened, but he was already sliding out of his seat.
“I’ll come back when I have the answer,” He tipped his head, his tone was light but his words carried a weight. “I’ll see you again, ma’am.”
He turned on his heel, about to make his way over to his booth, and you uttered one word before you could even stop yourself.
“Wait.”
Immediately, the ARC Trooper whirled around with hope evident in his face. “Ma’am?”
You pursed your lips, before you sighed and pushed the glass towards him. “On the house.”
The way he beamed shouldn’t have made your heart stutter. The way he muttered a soft thank you as he grabbed the glass shouldn’t have warmed your cheeks. The way he stared at you, dark and inviting, while taking a sip of his cold whiskey shouldn’t have your defenses crumbling bit by bit. When he finished the drink and placed the empty glass in front of you, the two of you stood there in silence.
Staring. Waiting. Hoping.
Until someone called him from behind, and the charged tension between the two of you vanished.
He gave you one last grin, before he slipped into the crowd.
Leaving you with the empty glass, stroking the imprint of where his lips touched the rim.
You weren’t supposed to work on your fourth night, it was your day off after all.
However, someone couldn’t fill in the bartending and Kara had no choice but to call you. And now, here you were, upset by the loss of your precious day off. Serving customers with a forced smile, sighing more than usual every time another clone flirted with you, and quickening your pace by the amount of orders piling in.
No sign of the 501st or the 212th either.
Albeit the chaos, you were able to adjust in time and managed to slip into your role again.
Everything was going well, until some clone decided to get all handsy the moment you stepped out of the refresher after a quick break.
You tried to go around him, but the naval officer wasn’t letting you go until you agreed to having drinks with him. He must’ve been too drunk to not be able to recognize you, and you weren’t in the mood to deal with people like him while you’re acting as a reliever.
“C’mon, sweets. Just one drink? I’ll make it worthwhile.”
“No, thank you–”
“What’s the rush? Got a boyfriend?”
“Yes. I have to get back to–”
“Just one drink–”
He was shoved back to the wall by someone else, and your eyes widened in recognition of the blue-striped armor standing between you.
“Didn’t you hear what she said?” Fives stepped towards the officer, his tone dripping with threat and authority. “She’s not interested. And she’s taken. Unless you want to get reported for misconduct and assault, I suggest you back off.”
The naval officer was about to bite back, when he recognized his armor and what legion he was under. Instantly, the clone sobered up and apologized, before he ducked away towards escape. Leaving you alone with Fives in that dimly lit hallway. Once he was gone, you released a long breath and rubbed your forehead with the heel of your hand.
“Thanks for that,” You addressed Fives, who was uncharacteristically silent. “I’m not supposed to come in today, but we’re short on staff. Trouble with scheduling.”
You finally took a good look at the soldier, and noticed the murderous glare he cast into the direction where the officer went.
“Hey,” You lightly patted his arm. “You okay?”
Finally, he turned his attention to you. “I should be asking that, mesh’la.”
Mesh’la?
Your breath hitched, recognizing the Mando’a pet name Kara shared with you before.
You’ve been called by other clones with that endearment, but it usually flies past your head.
After all, most of them were either tipsy or drunk.
But hearing it from Fives, after witnessing his display of control, was different. It was strange, especially after that situation, how your mind began to wander in other situations where he’ll completely lose it—whispering that word in between ragged breaths and deep groans.
“Mesh’la?” You flinched, as if caught, causing Fives to step back. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” But your strained voice begged to differ. “Just shaken up. Tired. And kriffing mad.”
Mad about working today. Mad about that bastard and my mind.
He nodded, understanding your dilemma. “That’s fine. You wanna go home? I can tell your coworker about the situation. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
You stared up at him, seeing his features melt into worry, and your walls crumbled again.
“Thank you, Fives.”
“Any time, mesh’la.’
“You’re calling me that now?”
Fives sported his infamous boyish grin once again. “Why not? It suits you perfectly. And it’s a nice substitute while I still don’t know your name.”
You shook your head, smiling at his antics. “I’ll let it slide. You’re lucky I like you.”
The words were out before you could stop yourself, but it was too late to take it back.
The grin on his face brightened, the previous tense air dissipating.
He leaned down your level, face inches from yours, and you suddenly realized you were pinned to the wall. The proximity has your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, so fast your heart can barely keep up. Secluded from any public eye, but still risky enough for someone to see, Fives has you right where he wanted.
Unlike earlier, you didn’t want to leave.
When you made no move to push him off, his eyes darkened and your lips parted to exhale a stuttered air.
“Did I hear that correctly?” He pondered teasingly. “You like me, mesh’la?”
You held onto what remaining strength and rationality left within you. “I don’t like you this close.”
But your words lacked venom, and he picked up on it.
Fives angled his head to the side, cheek brushing against yours as he spoke his next words right next to your ear.
“You might like me even closer next time, mesh’la.”
Then, he was gone.
Walking away without sparing a glance over his shoulder, and you were standing there with no walls left to guard you.
The fifth night rolled in like thunder.
The moment the 501st legion arrived, laughing and hollering in tandem, your stomach dropped in realization. Their final night of shore leave. Of course, they were gonna spend it here in 79’s instead of some other place. And by the looks of it, they’re not gonna leave until they all have their fill and get dragged back to base by their brothers.
“Hey, ladies!” The clone with the Republic tattoo on his forehead greeted. “Drinks for all of us. And keep ‘em coming. We’re gonna get everyone here wasted. Including you Rex!”
The rest of his brothers cheered in unison, their captain only sighed in defeat, and you caught the eye of a certain clone from the side. Fives threw a wink your way, grinning knowingly, before he was tugged away towards their chosen booth.
Kara muttered a native prayer beside you, and you did the same.
Maker, help us.
Safe to say this was one of the most chaotic shifts you’ve ever had since you started working in this bar.
Not only did the 501st grow in number, but some of them brought other battalions. The 212th, the 104th, and even Shinies were tagged along as some sort of initiation before they left for war the next day. It was unlike anything you’ve seen before, and you could only hope the hours would flash by faster, or at least the Coruscant Guards stepped in before things got out of control.
They did come, but not for the reasons you expected them to do.
You recognized Captain Rex and Commander Cody pulling the trooper leading the red-painted guards, Commander Fox if you recall, wearing large grins on their identical faces as they greeted their brother. Fox let them drag him towards their booth, reluctant but willing. Well, looks like the two were gone as well. Later on, you found out from one of the clones that this was a tradition of some sorts.
Every five months on the third week, any battalion or division could join in for drinks.
That includes the Corries, the 104th trooper added.
Suddenly, it made sense why there were more staff than usual today, but no one told you why.
After hours of manning the bar, you slipped away from the crowd to have your break.
“Be back in an hour!” You called Kara, who gave you a thumbs up and a small smile.
You were about to step out, when someone slung an arm around your shoulders and you were being directed somewhere.
Looking up, you saw the same clone who announced their arrival earlier.
The Republic trooper, you dubbed him.
“Mind joining us for a second, ma’am?”
He pointed a thumb towards his booth, and you saw all of the faces watching the two of you approach. There were eight of them there, including Fives, and you had a brief flashback to the first night you all met them.
“Name’s Jesse, by the way! Nice to meet you.”
You smiled cautiously, having no choice but to let him sit you down in their booth as he slid next to you.
“Likewise,” You stole a glance at Fives, confused at the dark look he was casting Jesse beside you. “Um, what’s this for?”
Someone else piped in, the clone with a jagged line above his right eye sitting on your other side.
“Hardcase here! Just wanted you to join us for some drinks. Y’know, for being the best bartender in the whole galaxy.”
Jesse slung an arm around you again, and you didn’t miss the way Fives’ glare hardened.
“Yeah! Just stay for a bit, pretty girl.”
“Pretty girl?”
“That’s what you are, right?”
“Right. . .”
You cast another questioning look at Fives, but he only seemed to be focused on glaring daggers at the arm on your shoulder.
What’s up with them tonight?
“Drinks are here,” Rex returned carrying a tray of glasses, blinking at the sight of you sitting there. He turned to Jesse, frowning. “Are you actually serious with the–”
Jesse grabbed the glasses, cutting off his captain. “Thanks, cap! Now, sit down and join us.”
When everyone got settled in, Hardcase raised his glass.
“To our last day of leave!”
Everyone in the booth cheered, and you couldn’t help but smile at their theatrics.
Maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt.
────────────── ★ ───────────────
Half an hour later, you excused yourself towards the refresher.
Your time with the 501st consisted of off-key singing, wild inside jokes that Jesse had to explain to you, sharing embarrassing stories, and having a drinking contest with each other. For a while, you forgot everything else and simply enjoyed their company. Albeit unexpected, it didn’t turn out as terrible as you first thought.
Rex was there to make sure none of his boys would step out of line when it came to you. Jesse and Hardcase made you feel more comfortable with their lively energies, squished between them as they kept on pouring joke after joke. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, your stomach ached from laughing, and honestly you couldn’t remember laughing that much in a while.
The rest of them were fun as well.
Echo was more than welcoming. Dogma took quite some time to loosen up around you. Tup was the sweetest clone you ever met. And Kix kept asking if you were okay every time you clutched your stomach in laughter. After getting to know each of them better, you found it easier to distinguish their traits from one another. Although there was one person who didn’t seem to enjoy it as much.
Fives.
The whole time you were there, he had that stormy expression on his face you saw him wear when he confronted the naval officer. Now, he directed that look towards his brothers. Specifically, Jesse and Hardcase. You didn’t understand his change in behavior. All you knew was you had to step away for a bit to escape his burning stare and the heavy tension surrounding him.
Exiting the refresher, you jumped back in shock upon seeing Fives standing outside.
“Fives?”
“Mesh’la.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
You tilted your head, sensing his sour mood from earlier still present. “Why are you waiting for me?”
In a blink of an eye, his hand was around your wrist and you were being pulled deeper into the hall. Questions formed at the tip of your tongue, but they all died at the back of your throat when he pressed a stockroom door open and brought you inside—locking the panel with a hard smash.
Thankfully, there was a small window and lights from outside for you to be able to see his face.
One glimpse was all you saw, dark and hungry, before you were shoved back against the wall and he crashed his lips on yours.
Your eyes fell shut, yelping at the sudden action.
You should've pushed him away. You should've left the room. You shouldn't have pulled him down with your hands in his collar, kissing him deeper to hear him groan. You shouldn't have gasped his name when he grasped your hips. And you shouldn't have told him yours after you parted for air.
Fives pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “That's your name?”
Nodding, you pulled him back in another kiss. “Don't like it?”
He hummed into your lips, one of his hands coming up to hold your neck. “I do. But mesh'la fits you more.”
The kiss gradually shifted into something else.
Slower and deeper.
Fives kissed you in a way that made you curious why you wanted more. What was it about him that has you gasping for air? That made you moan his name and wrap your arms around his neck? Why did his body, despite the armor, feel so good against yours? Why did his lips taste intoxicating despite the fact he didn't drink anything earlier?
The more questions you had, the quickly they were erased when Fives started making quick work removing his armor.
But he didn't let the kiss break for too long.
Each time a piece fell to the floor, he'd surge forward to kiss you again, only parting when the complicated ones got in the way. He continued until all that was left on him were his blacks, and you were able to feel him better without the layers blocking his body.
And kriff, he felt bigger than you imagined him to be.
He was on you again, stealing air out of your lungs in another bruising kiss. You let him grasp your thighs and bring you up against him. Just like how you imagined the first time. His broad frame covered your body entirely, his lean waist felt sturdy between your thighs. His lips continued to move between yours, teasing and tasting your tongue.
“Table,” You panted, breaking off. “There's a table at the corner.”
Fives nodded once, and he was back to kissing you senselessly. He settled you down on the table, rattling the unimportant things there.
It was dizzying how his kiss tasted like trouble.
It tasted like breaking the laws at near midnight. It tasted like victory after the war, filled with adrenaline and hope, and you wanted more.
He sensed your urgency, and in the next second, your boots were off and your pants were tugged down to your feet until you kicked them off. His gloves followed, now they laid flat on your thighs—large and rough—pulling you closer until you were pressed against him. And kriff, he felt incredible. Every part of him was firm under your touch. His shoulders, his arms, chest, and the prominent hardness stiffening between your legs.
When he rolled his hips forwards, your mind blanked and the only thing you could do was to grind back.
“Is this your way of scratching an itch?” You giggled at the feeling of his goatee brushing your neck. “I have to be back in twenty minutes.”
He kissed the spot where your pulse raced, smiling at your reaction. “That’s more than enough.”
As he kissed your neck, your hands went to his hair and tugged his head back. “Don’t push it, trooper.”
Fives grinned up at you. “Someone’s needy.”
You glared at him, bringing a hand between your bodies and lightly stroking him through his blacks. His hips bucked forward, forehead bumping on yours as his breathing became a little ragged. You continued touching him, pressing harder and squeezing his length just to hear his wrecked groans of your name.
You barely remembered what happened next.
Your fingers inside his waistband. Your thighs were spread wider. The feeling of him, hard and heavy, gliding between your legs. His fingers running through your soaked folds. His rough voice whispering in your ear, so soaked for me, and the loud curse that followed when you whispered back—only for you.
As soon as those words escaped your lips, you felt his tip lining at your entrance.
You heard him in your ear again, rough and dangerous. “Hold tight.”
Then, he pushed himself in one full thrust—unforgiving and fast—before he was setting a wild pace that had you screaming on his shoulder. The pain subsided into an explosive pleasure, and you were left clinging against him as he drove himself deeper and deeper. The table creaked under you, your lungs hurt from how fast you were breathing, and all you could focus on was how good he felt and made you feel.
You never knew trouble can fuck you this good.
And hard.
It got to the point where you were laying back on the table, with him leaning over your body, and your name being the only thing you heard coming out of his mouth. He raised your legs higher, bringing them around his waist again, before he changed his angle and thrusted faster.
A high moan tore from your throat.
So loud you almost didn’t hear him talking.
“I would’ve been sweeter on you, mesh’la.” He grasped your hips tighter, hips snapping harder into you. “But seeing you with my brothers like that. With Jess and Case. I nearly lost my kriffing mind.”
Now you understand why trouble can fuck you this good.
He was jealous.
Fives continued, groaning harshly at your throat. “Those di’kuts think they can have you like this. They keep calling you pretty girl in front of me. Think they can rile me up by touching you, making you laugh and smile. And it kriffing worked.”
You tried saying his name, but it came out as a broken air left unfinished.
Then, he changed his pace. His thrusts, brutal at the start, shifted into deeper and rougher strokes. Like he was trying to mold himself into you instead of proving a point. He slowed his rhythm to let you feel the whole length of him dragging in and out of your walls. You were finally able to breathe, but it still made your legs shake and your voice tremble.
“So, you were jealous?” You gasped at a sharp thrust when you said those words. “Oh, kriff. You are–”
“I was,” He hovered above you again, lips grazing yours. “Not anymore.”
When he kissed you, it didn’t taste like trouble anymore.
It tasted bittersweet.
Like time was running out, and you knew this would be over in a blink of an eye.
But you didn’t want that. You didn’t want this slowness and honeyed sweetness. You want to wake up the next morning and still feel him as the ache. You want a reminder in the shape of his hands bruising your hips, and teeth marks at your throat. You want trouble to come back to you once his next mission is over. You want him unforgiving and merciless like the war he was bred for.
So, you wrapped your arms around his neck tighter and whispered.
“Harder.”
He tensed for a brief second, those golden eyes darkening as they snapped open.
“Now, you're trouble.”
His thumb swiped across your bottom lip, staring down at you with a newly lit challenge in his eyes, before he crashed down into you and thrusted at the same time.
What happened next was a blur.
Somehow his top was gone. Your nails left harsh red lines down his back. His teeth were at your throat. Knees pushed up to your chest. Calloused hands at the back of your thighs. His strangled groans and curses in your ear. Your choked gasps of his name. The intense climax crashing down on your body. Once. Twice. The third time was him knelt between your legs to clean you up before you could go back out there.
Twenty minutes later, you stumbled out of the stockroom.
Limping, hair completely a mess, clothes in disarray, and heavily out of breath.
Behind you, the ARC Trooper looked perfectly normal adorned in his full armor once more.
Compared to you, no one would suspect him of anything. His brothers would brush off his flushed features and unruly hair as a result of this party, while you might need a more reasonable explanation why you suddenly looked like you got run over by a rancor.
“Need any help?” His cheeky voice, raw and hoarse from his exertion, reached you over the muffled bass.
You didn't have any strength left to glare at him, so you settled on rolling your eyes.
“No,” You tried to walk, but stumbled against him as he held you up. “Kriff. At least the itch was scratched. Persistent bastard.”
Fives laughed, wild and boyish, and your stomach fluttered in betrayal. Then, he winked down at you with that troublemaking grin.
